


Rule Number One

by Skylark22155



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 61,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4630938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark22155/pseuds/Skylark22155
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rule number one: Protect Sammy, at any cost. John's trying his hardest to follow that rule, but hunting isn't exactly the safest lifestyle. In order to keep his youngest safe he leaves him at a foster care facility. But what happens when Dean needs his little brother to come back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own the show Supernatural or any of its characters  
> A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic on this website so please bare with me here. I originally posted this on fanfic.net and figured it was as a good a story to start out with here as any. Please, please tell me if you like it, or if I'm doing something completely wrong. Thank you and hope you all enjoy! :)

There were very few things that John Winchester treasured in this world more dearly than the hunt for revenge which had consumed him since November 2nd. 

Those treasured things were currently bickering about something or the other in the backseat. 

"Dad Dean won't leave me alone!" cried the youngest, swatting away Dean's hand to keep him from mussing up his hair. Again.

'I should cut it,' John thought to himself, glancing in the review mirror at the brown locks that hung to Sammy's eyebrows now.

But he wouldn't. 

Like so many other traits Sam's hair was a reminder of the woman he'd lost. They were soft and gentle, innocent, if you could call hair innocent. And just so _Sam_ that he couldn't bring himself to do so. 

"Dean," he said in his best stop-it-now-before-I-stop-this-car tone.

As expected he received a cheeky grin and a shrug from his eldest, although John didn't miss the fond glance thrown Sam's way before he turned his attention to the passing scenery. Contenting himself to bouncing his legs up and down in an attempt to relieve himself of some of his pent up energy. Sam returned to the book some teacher had given him as a going away present. The same one he'd been reading for the past hour until Dean had started bugging him. 

John sighed as he glanced back at his boys. He could remember a time when Sam would be strapped in a car seat and Dean would entertain him for hours without complaint. Making funny faces, playing with his hands, and Sam drank it all up. Those days were over. 

Although, Sam had the same dimples he'd always had. The same innocent expression in those hazel eyes that took in the world with such wonder. John would've given up anything he owned to keep that look of wonder in his son's eyes. Anything at all. 

He knew Dean would too. If ever they had a disagreement, though those were blessedly few and far between, they always had a common goal.

Protect Sam. At any cost. 

Something that his eldest had taken to heart since the first time he'd left the two alone.

Sam closed his book and pinched the bridge of his nose, scrunching up his face.

"What's wrong Samantha?" Dean teased, his eyes dancing, concern buried deep in his gaze.

"Shut up Dean," Sam mumbled, sighing and dropping his hand before brushing some of those ridiculous bangs out of his face. 

'Yep, I'm cutting those,' John thought. 

"Bitch," Dean told him, shoving him slightly.

"Jerk," Sam quipped, pushing him just as forcefully back.

"Boys," John warned, knowing that if he didn't pull over and let them loose then he was going to regret it later when one was in tears and neither were talking to the other.

They stopped almost immediately, both sharing impish grins before getting lost in their own little worlds. John noticed a playground just ahead, noting that not many people were there at the time, and drove over.

"Woah, look at that Dean!" Sam exclaimed, pressing his face into the glass as they got closer, "They have a climbing wall!"

John put the impala into park and unlocked the doors.

"I'm just going to fill her up," he told them, "I'll be back in ten."

"Yes sir," came two swift replies before they climbed out of the car. 

Stretching their legs that were stiff from hours of sitting in the cramped backseat. 

John rolled down his window, "Dean," he called.

"Yeah Dad?" he asked, moving over and bending slightly.

"Look out for Sammy." Dean had to bite his cheek to keep from rolling his eyes

. "Yes sir." He waited until his dad rolled the window back up before adding, "I always do."

"I'm gonna beat you there!" Sam yelled, taking off on his short eight-year old legs. 

"Not if I get there first!" Dean shouted after him, knowing full well that he would let the kid win, even if that meant he had to move in slow motion for that to happen. Because that kid, that stupid puppy-dog-eyed kid with girly hair, meant more to him than any prize in the world. 

John returned in a little over ten minutes, having stepped inside the convenience store to grab a cup of coffee. He shrugged back into his leather jacket and grabbed the steaming beverage in the styrofoam cup before getting out of the vehicle and finding a bench to sit on. He settled himself down and sipped on the precious dark liquid. Knowing that they had at least another four hours until they reached the destination of the last case he'd caught wind of. Knowing also, that those four hours would be much easier on everyone if they were tired. Or even better, exhausted and fell asleep. 

"Can I join you?" a pleasant voice asked.

John jerked slightly and scolded himself for letting his guard down, even for a second. 

"Sure," he replied politely, taking in the woman before him. 

She had blond wispy hair that framed her pale face. Cheeks slightly pink from the cool breeze and bright blue-green eyes that would've made any man fall head over heels for her. She wore jeans and a purple sweater with a tan purse tucked under one arm that she slid to her lap as she sat next to him.

"I love seeing them play," she told him with a loving smile, "They always look so free, don't they?"

"Yeah," John agreed, watching as Dean showered Sam with praise after the youngest climbed the rock wall all on his own. "They yours?" John asked, nodding to the other two kids that had just arrived.

One wore glasses and looked too skinny, almost to the point of malnourished, and other had flaming red hair and a freckled face. "If only I were so lucky," she mused, at his questioning gaze she explained, "I work at a child protection house. Which, is basically just a fancy name for a foster home," she added with a small laugh, "But those poor kids, fighting for their lives no matter how much their parents tried to protect them." She seemed to be talking to herself now, "But we give them a second chance, a hope for a future."

"Sounds pretty impressive," John remarked. She shrugged. "What kind of a future do you provide?"

"Do you have someone in mind?" She questioned. 

"No, no," John assured her with a small smile, "Just curious."

"Well, whatever the child wants really. Whether it's a psychologist, we even had one grow up to be a doctor you know." 

"Oh wow."

"Yeah," she nodded and reached into her purse and pulled out a card, "There's all of the contact information, in case you do know someone who might need help."

"Say," John said, taking the card and stuffing it into one of his pockets, sure that he'd never use it, "Do the kids ever get to see their families again after they hand them over?" 

"Oh sure! If the families want to."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"Well," she hesitated trying to form the right answer, "Sometimes it's just too painful I guess."

John nodded in understanding before glancing at his watch, they had to go now if they wanted to get a hotel before dark. "Sam! Dean!" he yelled, standing up, he turned to the lady, "It was nice meeting you..."

"Miranda," she supplied with a smile and held out her hand, "And you..." 

"John." 

"Well, you have two lovely boys John."

"Yeah," he agreed glancing over at the two forms that were rushing towards him, "I do."

...

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Of course, they were Winchesters so when did anything happen like it was supposed to?

John had allowed Dean to join him for this one, telling Sam to stay in the car no matter what. He prayed the child listened to him. If he'd had it his way he'd have left Sammy at the hotel they were staying at. But the gentlemen at the front desk had been asking questions, and John hadn't missed the way he'd watched John with a suspicious look behind his back. Hence, Sam got to come along for the ride.  


It was a haunting, no doubt about it. Some spirit who managed to scare the crap out of some teens at an abandoned house. Luckily no one had been killed.

Yet.

He stalked through the entrance hallway silently, gun at the ready, extra ammo within the easy reach of his pockets. Dean trailed behind him, covering their backs as they crept on into what appeared to be the sitting room. There was a huge fireplace made of brick, the rest of the walls covered with shelves upon shelves of books. An eerie gust of wind blew through the house and he felt Dean take a small step closer to him. Not that he was afraid, Winchesters were never afraid.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, heart rate quicken like it did before a kill.

The temperature around them dropped, but still no sign of the ghost.

"Oh no," he heard Dean breath.

He was just about to ask him what he was whispering about when he heard a small voice ask. "Dean?"

John groaned, of all the times for Sam to disobey his orders! 

"Sam get back to the car," he growled, worry making his tone sharp and strict. 

"De the voice said-"

"Tell your brother to get back into the impala," John order Dean, eyes frantically searching the balcony, knowing that Sam always listened better to his older brother anyways. 

"Sam-" Dean started, before his eyes widened, "Sam LOOK OUT!"

John spun just in time to see his youngest go flying into one of the bookshelves, falling limply to the ground. He didn't get up.

"Get you brother!" he demanded, shooting at the spirit.

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He hustled over to his little brother and flipped him onto his back that way he could see the extent of his injuries. The youngest had a lump that was already forming on his forehead, so concussion then, but he also somehow managed to get a cut on his neck that was trickling out blood. Dean breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that there wasn't any internal damage as he hooked an arm under Sam's legs and scooped him up. Ready to make the dash to the impala as soon as his father gave him the all clear.

"Dean! Let's go!"

There it was.

With a speed Dean didn't know he had he moved to the car, parked just outside. His father opened the back door for him and he carefully maneuvered himself into the backseat. Keeping Sam cradled in his arms. John slammed the door closed and sprinted to the other side of the car before sliding behind the wheel.

"How is he?" he asked.

"He has a concussion, and a cut on his neck," Dean informed him.

"How bad?" John demanded, trusting his son enough to let him gauge whether or not a visit to the hospital would be necessary.

"No hospital," the pre-teen replied, already shrugging out of his fall jacket and placing it against the wound, "Though he's gonna have one hell of a headache when he wakes up."

"Okay," John nodded, placing his foot on the gas, heading back towards the motel they were staying in.

Unwantedly, something the lady at the park, Miranda, had said echoed in his mind. _'...those poor kids, fighting for their lives no matter how much their parents tried to protect them.'_ Rule number one. Protect Sammy. Something else she said resided inside of his mind. _'we give them a second chance, a hope for a future.'_

'Oh God Sammy,' John thought, making a decision that he knew he would regret until his dying day. But rule number one came first. 'Forgive me.' 

He stepped on the gas harder, blinking back tears at the thought of what he had to do. His choice now seemed so clear. For Dean it was too late. But Sammy? Here was his shot at keeping the wonder in his child's eyes. Even if the cost killed him.

"Uhm Dad?" Dean asked as they sped past the motel. 

"Keep pressure on that wound," he instructed, pulling out the card from his pocket.

It would be about a three and a half hour drive if he estimated correctly. John was going to make it in one.

His eyes never left the road, knowing that if he took one glance at the backseat his resolve would crumble. Dean could sense that something was seriously wrong, but John brushed him off whenever he tried to ask, so he gave up and focused on his little brother instead. 

It was for Sam's well being, John told himself, I don't have a choice here. 

Needless to say the next sixty minutes passed in tense silence. Dean watching over his brother, John wondering how on earth he'd convince Dean about this. About letting dear Sam go. One son was already too high of a price for the poor father to pay.

He pulled up in front of a nice looking house, one of the ones Sam goggled at every time they drove by. Yellow painting, complete with a white picket fence. Sam would do just fine. 

He got out and picked Sam up from his brother's hold, careful to keep the makeshift band aid of Dean's jacket over the wound.

"Stay here," he told Dean, turning before the eldest saw the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. 

Sam remained limp in his arms as he carried him up the driveway. He used his foot to kick at the door. Burying his face into Sam's locks as he waited. Trying desperately to remember every strand of hair, everything that made him Sam.

A light turned on and the door opened a crack. Revealing a rumpled looking Miranda in a bathrobe. 

"John?" she asked, surprise clear in her voice, turning to shock as she noticed Sam in his arms.

She opened the door wider and let him in, turning on the light to the living room. John moved swiftly and laid Sam down on the couch as gently as he could. After a moment's thought he took out his wallet and placed two photos next to Sam. One of his mother. One of the three of them that Bobby had taken. 

"John what's going on?" Miranda's voice cut in. 

He stood up, "Take my son," his voice broke and he could no longer hide the raw emotions that threatened to choke him, "Please, take my son."

"John I-" He hurried out of the home, not able to stay inside for another second. Finding Dean leaning against the impala impatiently. 

"Where's Sam?" he demanded. 

"Dean-"

Dean started marching to the house but John caught his waist and pulled him back. 

"Dean leave him!" he put as much conviction into those words as he could muster.

Lost green eyes met his, "Why Dad? Why-"

"This is for the best son," John told him, yanking open the door and pushing his son to urge him inside. 

"He's my brother," Dean stated, as if that cleared all doubt that they were not leaving Sam here. Alone. Defenseless.

"Dean he'll be safe here, happy," John desperately tried to persuade him, "Trust me son." 

Dean hesitated. He would be lying if he ever said that he hadn't wished for Sam to have the normal life he so obviously craved. But happy? How could Sam possibly be happy without him? How would he live without Sam? How would either of them cope without the little brat?

"We'll come back," John promised.

Dean slowly let himself be shoved into the car. Something crumbling inside of him as his father started the engine and started driving. He clutched the amulet Sam had given him all those years ago as if that was a link that would keep him connected to his brother. 'I'll be back Sammy,' he vowed, biting his lip to keep the tears from slipping out, 'That's a promise.' 


	2. 8 years...

_8 Years Later..._

Eight years.

Eight years, two months, and fifteen days, that's how long Sam Winchester had been staying at the Clark's foster home. Eight years of going to the same school, making friends, and living a relatively normal life.

Eight years, two months, and fifteen days. Which meant that it was six years, one month, and three days since he gave up the hope of ever seeing his family again.

Did it matter?

Yes, to Sam it meant everything. He'd spent all of those eight years wondering, pondering, asking all of the why questions. All of the what ifs.

What if he had stayed in the car that night? Would his father still have abandoned him? Was he really that much of a screw up that both Dean and his Dad saw it fit to dump him in a strangers home and drive off, leaving him with nothing but his brother's jacket and two tiny photos?

Sam groaned and rested his head on one of his hands as he listened to Mr. Elkense, the English teacher, ramble on in front of the calls about the importance of the difference between who and whom.

He sighed, knowing that Dean would've spent the entire class period chatting it up with the red head that sat in the seat in front of him. The thought made him shift in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position to spend the rest of the forty-five minutes.

He ended up positioning himself so that he was looking out one of the windows.

He may have given up on the hope of ever seeing his big brother again. But six years, one month, and three days did nothing to help diminish the pain of loss.

That was why he'd framed the tiny photos and placed them on the nightstand next to his bed, that way they were the first things he saw each morning and the last each night before he fell asleep. That was why, after Miranda washed the blood out of Dean's jacket, he'd kept it. Each and every fall it was the only jacket he wore, no matter how big it fit on him. Or recently how short the sleeves were starting to get.

Which was why he was wearing it now, over a grey t-shirt, in ratty, worn-out, jeans, in a class that he couldn't be bothered with. He'd learned all this stuff ages ago. But no matter how many times he tried he simply could not get them to change his class schedule. Which meant he'd have to deal with it for another two months until vacation came around to save him.

He wondered what Dean would think if he'd heard some of his rants against the class. He imagined him saying something along the lines of, 'Who are you and what have you done with my geek brother?' Or even more likely, 'It's about time you figured it out, I've been telling you that for years Sammy.'

Sam's heart clenched as a lump formed in his throat.

'Don't think about him,' he told himself, 'Forget he even existed, he left you, remember? He left you and now you don't need him.'

But he did.

Sam Winchester was in desperate need of his big brother.

Had been from the day he'd woken up in a hospital to find strangers waiting up for him. He'd been scared out of his wits and eventually the doctors had had to give him a sedative to keep him from having a full blown panic attack.

Why else would he refuse to grant anyone the option of calling him Sammy? That name had one sole owner, and deep down, no matter how much the sixteen year old tried to deny it, he still waited for the day when his big brother would take him home. Or at least tell him that someone was still looking out for him.

Miranda sighed as she went through Brady's room, looking for all of his dirty laundry.

Brady, with his bright red hair, had a bad habit of just dumping things on the floor after he was done using them. Even though he was graduating this year, he still stubbornly held onto some of the traits he'd had when he'd shown up on their doorstep at the age of twelve. She could only hope that college would change him for the better. In the very least, make him appreciate a clean room.

It was unusual for foster children to stay in one place for such an amount of time as all three boys had. But Miranda didn't mind, she'd fought tooth and nail to keep them under her roof and she'd do it all over again in a heart beat. She loved them all as if they were her own. Her husband, Thomas, felt the same way, much to her relief.

The two of them tried their hardest to offer the boys as much of a normal childhood as they possibly could. Including, but not limited to, giving each child their own room. Miranda felt that it was important for the kids to have a space they could recognize as their own, a separate place where they could unwind and relax without unwanted attention.

She shoved another pair of dirty socks into the basket before starting the trek back to the door. Really, it was ridiculous, how could he even walk in here? She sighed, making a mental note to give Brady a talking to the minute he got home from football practice. Again.

She closed the door after her, not wanting to have one more look at the mess, before making her way across the hallway to Sam's room.

She sighed with relief when she noticed that his room was all tidied up, as it normally seemed to be. His pile of dirty clothes kept neatly by the door to his closet.

Her eyes caught sight of his framed photos on the nightstand and she pursed her lips. It never ceased to confuse her as to why John would want to give up such a sweet and caring boy as Sam.

The poor child had been lost without his family. Even now, whenever he was sick he only craved comfort from one person. Dean.

Sam had quickly wormed his way into her heart with those big soulful eyes that he possessed. He remained tight lipped about his family, even when he was young and could chat the ears off of a person. Never saying more than 'Dean would've liked this...' or 'Dean knew...'

According to him, Dean knew everything about how to make Sam happy, when he was sick, had a scraped knee, or a bad day at school. It hurt to know that someone out there was missing Sam just as much as he was missing them, though he tried to hide it with a shield of indifference. He was hurting inside and it pained her that she could do nothing to ease his suffering.

She wasn't sure what she'd do if she came across John again. Slap him? Drag him home and make him tell Sam that he loved him? Both?

She shook her head at her musings as she bent down.

"Sam, Sam, Sam," she muttered, returning to her chore as her thoughts continued to swirl in her head.

The boy had been so open about everything but his family when he was little. But now? He'd receded into silence, even dropped out of sports although he went to the gym regularly. Now he hardly said a complete sentence to either her or Thom. They were lucky if they got a full conversation out of him.

She'd suggested going to see a therapist, thinking perhaps that Sam would open up to someone else if not them, but Sam had been abandonment against the idea, and Thom had convinced her not to push it.

They could only wait and hope that Sam would eventually confide in them, or at least understand how much they cared about him.

She moved out of the room with a full basket and walked down the stairs heading for the basement where the washer and dryer were situated.

She proceeded to open the door to the basement, flicking on the light switch, and made her way down the creaky wooden steps, recalling the times that the boys had hidden under the steps and waited to jump out at her the second she hit the bottom.

Brady and Zach had done it because her shriek of surprise seemed to amuse them to no end, little Sam, the youngest of the boys, had only done it because Zach had convinced him to. Something made her think that hiding and jumping out at people was something Dean would've done, if her guesses on Dean's character were correct from the little tid bits of information she'd received.

She smiled at the memories, which now seemed bittersweet since she knew she'd be losing the two older ones after this year, and dumped the clothes into the washer before turning it on and making her way back up the stairs for the next round.

Miranda passed some of the framed photos of their little family in the hallway and glanced at a couple briefly. The one that caught her eye was the one where Zach was clapping Sam's shoulder with a wide grin on his face, while Sam's lit up in excitement as he looked up at the sky. The firework's glow illuminating the two of them.

Those were the pleasant memories.

Although Sam's stay had had it's bleak moments as well. She could never forget the first time she'd woken to a crying Sammy, trying to comfort the child but knowing nothing she did would be enough, when all he wanted was to be wanted. The fear of being abandoned now etched in his young mind.

A fear she couldn't seem to erase no matter how many hugs she gave, or how many times that she'd promise that _they_ wanted Sam.

Or, heaven forbid, those couple of times when Sam had actually run away seeking his family in those first couple of years. She'd never felt such relief as when that cop car pulled up and gave him back to her.

She filled her lungs with air and let it out slowly, shaking her head at her reflection in the glass that covered the photo.

A knock on the door pulled her from her musings just as she was about to head back upstairs, making her jump. She furrowed her brow, frowned slightly, and set the now empty clothes basket down as she walked down the rest of the carpeted hallway to the door.

Another knock.

She hurriedly crept to the living room to peek through a window.

A young man with cropped hair was standing on her doorstep. He wore jeans, bikers boots, and a leather jacket that almost appeared to be a tad too big for him.

He shifted his weight as he stood there, knocking a third time.

She glanced at the street looking for any commercial vehicle by her driveway and found nothing.

He clearly wasn't a salesman, dressed as he was and his apparent lack of vehicle, unless he was a door to door sales man? She shook her head, having had experience with those, knowing in her gut that he wasn't one of them, she continued to check things off of her mental list as she tried to gauge whether or not she should open the door. Clearly he was too old to be left by a parent, had there been a kid out there?

He turned his head as if feeling her stare and green eye met hers.

Great, now she didn't have a choice.

She straightened up and walked to the front door. Praying that she wouldn't be robbed, mugged, kidnapped, anything bad really. Maybe she should call her husband first? She dismissed the idea and gathered what scraps of courage she possessed.

Miranda opened the door rather hesitantly and peered at him, double checking that the screen door was still locked. Noting that no child was in sight.

"Uhm, hello?"

Green eyes met hers once more and she was awarded with a dashing smile, "Hey, I'm Dean. I'm looking for Sammy."

"Dean?" she asked, disbelief clear in her tone as she quickly tried to fit two and two together, "As in...Winchester?"

He flashed her another grin, "In the flesh. Is Sammy home?"

"Uh no, no he's at school. He'll be home in about," she glanced at her watch, "Fifteen minutes."

"Ah," the news seemed to disappoint her unexpected guest as he scratched the back of his neck, "You mind if I wait here for him?"

How could she deny the request? She'd seen the crest fallen look that crossed Sam's face every time Zach or Brady got guests. She'd never forgive herself if she'd turned away the last person of Sam's family and crushed all hope of them ever being reunited, something she knew Sam deeply wished. Something she wished herself.

How could she not have noticed the way he'd stare at the phone on his birthdays, just egging it on, waiting for the ring, the call that would tell him that his family still cared.

"Yeah, sure," she said, unlocking the screen door and ushering him inside.

"Thanks," he said as he stepped into her home, "Nice place you got," he remarked.

"Thank you," she replied awkwardly as she closed the door, debating whether or not she should lock it. Eventually she did, if this was _the_ Dean, she doubted he was anything close to a threat. At least...she sincerely hoped that was the case.

She led the way to the living room, mind flashing back to the night when John had barged in and laid Sam down on that same couch. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memories as she attempted to entertain this man before her.

Dean appeared to be trying to memorize every square inch of the place, his eyes darting around everywhere.

Eventually they caught sight of the photos on the shelves that rested against the back walls of the living room. He walked over to inspect them. The photos themselves were really just keepsakes that didn't fit on the wall, though among them were some of Miranda's favorites of the boys.

She enjoyed the one with Brady doing a handstand, or Zach sliding into home plate. The one Dean picked up almost reverently was another favorite, Sam proudly showing off the first fish he'd ever caught.

"Sam looks...," Dean searched for the word he wanted as he gazed down at the picture, a thousand emotions racing through him, guilt, jealousy, anxiety, where just three of hundreds, he finally settled for, "Happy."

Miranda took a deep breath, trying to figure out this man who claimed to be Sam's brother.

"He missed his family," she stated, continuing to watch him carefully.

Dean set the picture back on the shelf carefully and wiped a hand down his face. Before either of them could think of something else to say there was the distinct sound of someone unlocking the front door.

Sam was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and/or kudo if you want more, thanks for reading! :)


	3. Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to the guest who left a kudo, this chapter's for you! :)

Dean almost didn't recognize Sam as he moved to peer out the window, although he'd know that shaggy mop of a head anywhere. The kid had definitely grown. Almost freakishly so.

If they weren't even in height now then they would be soon. The thought made him shudder. Little brothers were supposed to remain that way, little, for like, ever. He was pretty sure it was one of nature's laws or something. Then again, Sammy had never truly cared about rules, even at a young age he'd been his own man. Although he always backed down whenever their father raised his voice, something Dean hadn't been sure if it'd last when Sam got older.

He wondered if he'd been rebellious here? Or had he put on his cherub like demeanor he always had on when around strangers, or Dean, if he wanted something extremely badly.

His kid brother stepped into the house, not noticing him yet.

Miranda glanced between the two before stepping out into the hallway to intercept the youngest Winchester.

"Sam?" she couldn't help the slight tremor in her voice, and was unable to tell whether or not it was out of anxiety or eagerness.

"Hmm?" he asked, distractedly as he kicked off his tennis shoes into the pile next to the door.

He stood up fully when he noticed how weird Mrs. Clark seemed to be acting. For one who was so calm usually it was strange to see her looking on edge. Which meant something must be really off.

"You have a guest," she told him, nodding towards the living room.

Sam looked at her questioningly. It couldn't be a friend from school, he'd just gotten off the bus five minutes ago. Which left only two options. A random couple seeking to adopt him, which wouldn't happen if he had any say so, or Miranda had finally called that therapist that she'd been talking about a few weeks prior.

Either way he wasn't exactly looking forward to stepping into that living room. He sighed, knowing that he'd have to find out whoever it was sooner or later and hitched his backpack up on his shoulder to a more comfortable position. Ready to make his escape at the first sign of trouble.

His sock clad feet made minimal to no noise as he entered the room, glancing at its occupant.

He stopped in the entryway. Face paling, as his backpack slid off of his shoulder to the floor with a thud. There'd be no quick escape.

Not this time.

Eight years and his older brother hadn't changed that much. Grown more muscular, perhaps slightly taller, but he had no doubt as to the identity of this man.

'This stranger,' he thought, mind reeling through everything that could've changed.

Miranda quickly picked up the long forgotten clothes basket and headed upstairs, knowing the two brothers would need some personal space.

As Sam took in him, Dean did the same.

Dean took in the sight of Sammy, noting distractedly that he seemed too thin. They fed him here, right? Was he not eating for some reason? His clothes seemed to fit nice, not hand me downs at least. Which is what he would've gotten he he stayed. And that jacket. _His_ jacket. His old green one that looked like the kid had worn it for years, various stains and a couple tiny holes in the sleeves indicating the extent to witch his little brother wore it. His eyes drifted to a small scar on the base of Sam's neck. Pale, no more than a couple inches or so. He had no doubts as to where it came from.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, smiling as if this wasn't a huge deal.

His nonchalance almost offended Sam. Eight years? Eight years?! He wanted to scream, you leave me here for eight years and now you come strolling in as if nothing's wrong?!

"Dean," he said coolly.

The tone in his younger brother's voice made Dean take a step back. He'd expected multiple reactions from Sam. This coldness he was detecting wasn't one of them.

It didn't help that neither of them knew exactly what the polite thing to say in this type of situation was. Or what the other wanted to hear.

"So...," Dean tried again, "What have you been up to?"

Sam eyed him, suspicion clear in his eyes. Either dad's making him do this, dad's dead, or something is completely screwed up here, he concluded. It was in the Winchester rule book. You move on, you forget, and you never look back. Something Sam had accepted long ago. Dean being here completely messed that up and it frustrated him. Than he was frustrated at himself for being frustrated.

"School," he replied vaguely, unable to really maintain a whole line of thought at the moment. Half-expecting Dean to bolt out the door at any given time.

"That's right, you always were a geek."

Sam didn't flinch, didn't react at all to his words and Dean wondered if teasing him wasn't such a bright idea at this moment.

Instead Dean tried a different route, "How's school going for you?"

"Fine," the response was tight, Dean didn't miss the slight flick of Sam's eyes.

He wanted to press the issue but decided against it. 'It could be nothing,' he told himself, 'then again it could be something _huge,_ and he had no idea.' He bit his bottom lip momentarily, unsure of what to ask next. He felt like he was walking on ice. One wrong move into the thin territory and he'd go under.

Now it was Sam's turn to try and start a conversation, but he was still so confused and unsure of everything that he couldn't even begin to imagine about what to talk about.

He was happy that Dean was here, he really was. Deep down his was leaping with joy. However anger and hurt from eight years and no phone calls clouded that joy. Chained him from leaping into his brother's arms like he had when they were little. After accepting that his family wasn't coming back he had thought that the wound their leaving had left had started to heal. Now all of that was reopened. All the pain sweeping through him and hitting him full force. Starting a conversation was out of the question.

Besides the fact that he didn't know much about this Dean.

Did he listen to the same music? Did he still have a 'type' of girl? What about sleeping in the bed closest to the door, was that still something he did? Did he and dad get along? Where was dad for that matter? The old man couldn't possibly still hate him after all this time, could he?

"I, uh, have the impala now," Dean stated, starting to become uncomfortable with the way Sam was looking at him.

Once upon a time Dean could practically read Sam's mind with just a glance. Now, less than fifteen feet apart he had no clue what his little brother was thinking. The fact unsettled him. He hadn't be sure what to expect when he came here, but this tenseness between them certainly wasn't what he ever thought it'd be like.

Did Sam still get top marks at school? Was he bullied without Dean there to protect him? Did he have a girlfriend yet, or was he still too shy? Did he hang out with a group of friends? Or just one or two people?

Sam nodded at the information, giving Dean at least some sort of response.

"Wanna see her?" Dean offered, desperate to do something his his brother. To try and piece together the bond that had been shattered.

Sam shook his head and stepped back as if the idea was poisonous. As if he was almost physically distancing himself form the mere thought of it.

He couldn't see the impala. His one childhood home. He couldn't see her and not have memory after memory flood his mind. Would he be able to stay here after seeing the car?

Everything he'd worked so hard to build now felt like a house of cards, and looking at the impala would be the gust of wind that blew them down. That left him were he started, and he couldn't go through that again.

He couldn't be in Dean's presence and constantly wait for the shoe to fall. Wait for Dean to leave him. Not again. The pain from the first time had been hard enough to go through once, a second time? No way he could survive.

At least the first time he'd been naive enough to think they would still come back. The thought was probably the only thing that gotten him through.

"I have homework," he muttered lamely, picking up his backpack, tired from school, confused and frankly scared about being around his brother, he needed some air. Needed to clear his head and think everything through.

Just stay away from me, he silently begged, can't you see that I've had enough pain?

"Oh," hurt marred Dean's handsome features, "Oh 'course, sorry. Look, Sammy," he waited until Sam met his eyes again, "I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"

Sam nodded, but he didn't believe him.

Wouldn't bother to put his hope into something he knew probably wouldn't happen.

He ducked out of the living room before Dean could see the tears that threatened to escape.

Hadn't he wanted this? Sam asked himself as he climbed up the stairs, angry and unsure, hadn't he wanted for Dean to find him?

Yet here he was practically giving Dean the cold shoulder. All of those feelings from eight years resurfaced whenever he had looked at Dean. The pain. The feeling of being alone. The fear. Everything bundled up and delivered to him like a soccer punch.

He paused on the stairway to let Miranda back down. She gazed at him questioningly but he just turned his face to the wall so that she couldn't see.

And Dean had the gull to stand there and talk about cars? He mind screamed as she moved past, eight years, eight years and Dean wanted to talk about the impala of all things?!

Dean watched in dismay as Sam left the room and padded his way upstairs, not looking back at him.

Miranda entered a few moments later, Dean didn't know what she'd been doing during their conversation, if you could call it that, but he was thankful to her for giving them some privacy.

"Maybe I said something wrong," he mumbled, trying desperately to hide how much his little brother's rejection had hurt him.

"Give him time," Miranda advised, settling the full clothes basket on her hip, "I'm sure there are things about both of you that are different, a person can change a lot in eight years."

He grimaced at the reminder, "Yeah, mind if I stop by tomorrow?"

Miranda felt something inside of her crumble at those earnest green eyes and silently scorned herself for even thinking that this man had wanted any harm to come to her, or Sam, for that matter.

"I can do better than that," she told him, surprising even herself at the bold tone in which she spoke those words, "Sam's school gets out at three, let me talk to him, maybe you could pick him up? Bring him home?"

Home, she didn't realize it but that word stung just as much as that remark about eight years. Sam's 'home' should never be somewhere with strangers. It should be with Dean. It should be with the impala, and their dad. Home was where your family was. Period.

Eight years couldn't change that. Could they?

"Uh yeah, if he's up to it," Dean replied with a small smile.

She smiled back, "Just wait here then, I'm sure I can get him to agree."

Dean watched as she disappeared up stairs after Sam after dumping the basket on the floor.

He should've called. He would've called if he'd just had the number. He knew that was no excuse. Just because his father never gave him the number didn't mean he couldn't have found it somewhere.

He'd missed eight of Sam's birthdays. Probably a hundred of 'firsts' as well if some of those pictures where any indication.

He rubbed a hand over his face again. Feeling the stubble scratch against his palm.

'Let him say yes,' he prayed, 'Please, I just want a chance to be brothers again.'

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Well, his father's leather jacket that had been passed down to him. He wondered if Sammy remembered it.

He hand brushed against his phone and he pulled it out, habitually checking for any missed calls or messages. Nothing. What had he been expecting really after a fight like that? It's not like his father was the most forgiving person in the world. What would he say anyways? Dean had meant every word, but why did he feel that nagging sense of guilt whenever he recalled the shouting match?

He groaned inwardly, family was what mattered most in the world. But they sure had one hell of a way of showing it.

Just as he was about to debate going upstairs himself to convince Sam, Miranda walked down the stairs, smiling. Smiling was a good sign, right? The older brother desperately hoped so.

She gave him a nod and a wink.

"He'll see you three o'clock tomorrow afternoon, sharp."

"Thank you," he told her, never having meant those two words more than at this precise moment.

She blushed slightly under his sincere gaze.

"I think we both just want what's best for Sam."

He nodded, that's all he'd ever wanted, and his father had used that against him. He'd lost Sam because of that wish and he wasn't making the same mistake again. Ever.

"I'll just go then," he said, shifting awkwardly, "I'm sure you have some chores to do, or something..." his eyes flicked to the basket of dirty clothes.

She smiled again and Dean had the impression that she did that a lot. At least he was content to know that Sam had been left in the hands of decent people and not psychopaths.

"Stop by anytime," she told Dean, showing him to the door.

He gave one last dejected look at the stairs before walking outside. He'd left the impala in the parking lot of the hotel. Maybe it was a good thing Sammy hadn't wanted to see her after all, he hadn't even thought of that.

He sucked in a lungful of the clear air and let it out flipped the collar to the leather jacket up and started walking to the place he'd be calling home for as long as he could stay, or really, as long as Sam _wanted_ him to stay. His mind replaying his talk with Sam, over and over, trying to find any detail of his brother that he'd missed that would explain his behavior as his boots marched along the sidewalk.

The main thing that stood out had been Sam's flick of the eyes at the mere mention of school...

One thing was for sure, Dean decided, he _was_ going to fix this, if it was the last thing he ever did, he would fix this.

He also knew one thing about his little brother.

Sammy was hiding something.

And just like he was going to fix their relationship, he was going to find out what that kid was hiding.

That, he concluded, was a promise.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, should we have an awesome bro moment next chapter? Or a peak into what those eight years where like for our boys? It's up to you, just let me know!


	4. Secrets Unvieled

The next day Dean was in the impala in the school parking lot at precisely 2:45. He waited impatiently, wondering if Sam would be able to spot the impala easily enough or if he should wait outside just to make sure.

He glanced at the clock on the dash board. 2:48. Dean tapped his thumbs against the wheel, picturing and trying to guess what his conversation would be like today with Sammy.

He hoped it would go better. What if they couldn't be brothers anymore? He wondered worriedly, what if Sam wanted nothing to do with him?

He pushed down the thought, the one thing he knew for certain, was that family was everything, even if Sam didn't want to admit it.

2:55.

It had been a long day. Extremely long.

It seemed Sam just couldn't keep himself focused on anything. His thoughts always tracing back to his brother.

Part of him dreaded that he was being forced into contact with him. But the other part? The other part was relieved beyond words. If Dean was actually trying to spend time with him...he crushed the thought, not letting himself get his hopes up. He sighed in relief as the last bell rang, signaling their freedom. 'Thank God it's Friday,' he thought to himself with a small smile playing across his lips.

He grabbed the binder and heavy textbook needed for physics and walked out of the classroom and into the bustling hallway, filled with hundreds of kids eager for the weekend.

"Hey Winchester!"

He rolled his eyes and kept walking, silently willing Max Russel to lose interest.

He mumbled apologies under his breath whenever he accidentally brushed against someone, picking up his pace in an attempt to put more distance between him and Max.

It was no secret that Max Russel was the school's most hated bully. His was big, and strong, and loved to prove it to. Not to mention the tiny fact that he was the principal's son, an only child at that.

Lately Sam had been the victim of Max and his 'crew's', for no fault of his own.

It started with Max crashing his shoulder into Sam's in the hallway on his way to class. That was two weeks ago. It had escalated quite quickly from there.

Not that Sam had uttered a word about it to either Miranda or Thom. Why should he? After all they'd done for him over the years he just couldn't bring himself to add anymore stress or worry to the pile. He'd deal with this.

Sam made it to his locker, the crowd of people in the hallway starting to thin out as he scrambled to twist the lock into the right combination.

"Winchester!"

The voice was getting closer.

Damn it.

The lock clicked open.

Sam opened his locker and managed to stuff the correct books and material needed to complete his homework into his backpack before someone reached over him and slammed his locker shut in his face.

"Winchester, ya need hearing aids or something?"

'Count to ten,' Sam told himself, trying desperately to keep his temper in check. He _really_ didn't need to deal with this right now.

"No Max," Sam replied calmly, zipping up his backpack as he turned to glare at the senior, "I heard you just fine."

Max leaned in close and Sam could smell the stale tell-tale sign that he'd been smoking earlier that day. A nasty habit of his and anyone who hung out with him. Apparently killing your lungs was now the 'cool' thing to do.

Sam had to bite his lip to keep from rolling his eyes at the bully's antics.

"So..you uh, trying to ignore me?" Max asked, making sure that he remained in Sam's personal space.

Sam was generally regarded as tall for his age, but even so Max still towered over him, muscles from working in the weight room bulging under the guy's shirt.

Sam gave him his coldest look, "Yes, it appears so."

Max growled and slapped Sam's book bag from his hands. Sam huffed, hoping he hadn't broken the calculator he needed for his math homework, but otherwise remained unimpressed. He'd dealt with worse.

"You think you can just ignore me?" Max demanded, out of the corner of his eye Sam saw two forms slowly strolling over to join them.

Killian and Dominic, Max's closet friends. Oh joy.

Sam knew deep in his gut that this was not going to end well for him. Usually Max just had one buddy lingering around to laugh at his idiotic jokes, two meant something was going to happen. Sam had heard through the grape vine that someone had dumped their whole tray of food onto Max's lap that day. That the senior had had to go to his father's office humiliated to ask to go home and change. Sam was willing to bet that this was Max's way of retaliating, of proving that he was still a man. Since fighting a three on one fight was only what tough guys did.

Any thought of meeting Dean after school fled the youngest Winchester's mind.

Killian moved over so that he blocked Sam's way from the right, Dominic the left, after kicking away Sam's backpack. The object sliding to a stop in front of one of the schools water fountains.

Then of course Max was gloating in front of him, finally taking a minuscule step backwards.

Sam was well and truly cornered and there was nothing he could do about it.

It didn't take a genius to figure out where this was headed.

Sam just hoped he'd be able to hide the bruises.

"Well, we'll just have to teach you some manners, won't we then, _Sam_?" Max told him with a cruel smile.

The first punch hit Sam in the gut and made him bend over, gasping for breath. He had to give it to Max, the kid could pack a punch.

Sam shot out his leg, feeling it connect with Max's weak spot before Dominic kicked the back of his knee and Killian sent him a clean right hand hook to the cheek bone, sending him to the ground. A particularly hard kick was sent to his ribs.

Sam's eyes watered slightly as he tried to push himself to his feet.

"Just don't know how to pick your fights do ya squirt?" Max taunted as he sent another blow to the hurt Winchester.

Sam collapsed back to the ground as he felt Max's boot collide with his tender ribs. He was almost positive he heard a small cracking sound, but couldn't be sure.

The youngest Winchester remained on the ground, trying to stop his stomach from puking up everything he'd eaten that day. Ignoring the jabs and taunts sent his way.

He felt something trickle down his cheek and figured it must be blood.

'That'll be a hard one to explain,' he thought grimly, recalling when he'd come home with a black eye from an intense game of recess in the sixth grade. Remembering Miranda's frantic voice as she forced every single detail out of him. She'd even called his teacher that night to double check what had happened.

The sound of biker boots jogging on the white linoleum floor echoed across the practically deserted hallway.

"Sammy?"

Sam shut his eyes, 'go away Dean,' he silently begged, not wanting the second meeting with his brother to be him being beaten up. 'Maybe he'll finally realize why they left you,' a voice whispered in his mind. He shut his eyes, feeling his cheeks blush with shame.

Winchesters never got beaten.

Winchesters gave back everything they were dealt.

They didn't lay helplessly on the ground trying not to cry.

"What do you punks think you're doing to my brother!" Dean demanded, sprinting over to where they were. Leather jacket billowing with each step just enough for them to see the holster of his .9 mil pistol that he carried everywhere.

Max and his gang scurried off as soon as they saw him approach, sending death glares at Sam as they retreated, the look in their eyes promising that they were far from finished with the youngest Winchester. Dean debated going after them but instead crouched besides Sammy.

"You okay kiddo?" He asked softly, gently placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Keeping his touch gentle to make sure he didn't cause his brother more pain.

The kid looked like hell. A small cut dribbling blood on his cheek, a bruise forming already, not to mention the bruises that he couldn't see. Anger made his vision go red until he forced himself to calm down.

Then the youngest Winchester said the five words that pierced Dean straight through the heart.

"I don't need you Dean."

_"Dean he doesn't need you!" his father's voice rose steadily, it was past time that they'd had this discussion. Dean had once again started pestering him to go see Sam._

_Two months without Sammy and the tension was running thick and high between the two. The absence of their third member clearly felt each and every day, like a gaping hole in their chests that could never be filled. Dean still caught himself almost talking to his little brother before turning and finding that Sam was gone and feeling like he'd lost him all over again.  
_

_Dean slammed his duffle bag onto his bed, "You don't know that!" he argued, knowing in his heart that somewhere in some white-picket fenced house his little brother needed him. Really the need was mutual.  
_

_"He has a **future** there Dean!" the father tried to defend himself, but his heart wasn't in it. Hadn't he felt Sam's absence just as clearly as Dean? He couldn't look at any eight year without thinking of his baby. But he couldn't live with the fear that one hunt he wouldn't be there. Sure, Sammy had just gotten hurt last time, but what if he hadn't? What if he'd been killed?  
_

_At least he now had the knowledge that Sam was safe, being taken care of and loved. But dear Lord, would the pain ever ease at the thought of his child? Would the throbbing ache ever disappear?_

_Dean quieted seeing the distress in his father's gaze before the older man excused himself, grabbed the keys, and left the hotel room in search of a bar. John needed relief, even if it was only temporary. He got into the impala and drove off. The feeling of guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders.  
_

_"Sammy does need me," Dean said firmly after the door had shut, as if the walls dared to think otherwise._

_Who knew his little brother better than himself? No one, of that he was positive. What if Sammy got sick and he wasn't there? Would they know to give him orange juice instead of Ginger-ale? What about when he couldn't sleep? Who would sing him Hey Jude? Not to mention the fact that the kid was terrified of clowns, or that he only slept after a nightmare if Dean was in the bed with him. Really the list was endless.  
_

_Of course Sam needed him._

'What if Dad had been right?' Dean wondered, 'what if he really hadn't needed him all this time after all?'

The blood rushed in Dean's ears but he tried to play it off nonchalantly, not portraying how much those words had hurt him. 'Sam's hurting,' he reminded himself and that was all it took to snap back into big brother mode.

"No but you do need a hospital," he replied casually, straightening up as Sam attempted to stand again. Big brother instincts screaming, HELP HIM! But he remained nothing but a silent watcher, knowing that there must be something he was missing regarding Sam's response to his offer of help. He might not be able to read Sam like he used to, but his little brother was no complete stranger either. 'So much for bonding time in the car,' he thought shrewdly.

Sam's arms shook violently as he pushed himself up, he pressed against the lockers to steady himself as he slowly stood.

Sam grumbled something as he struggled to get himself vertical, but Dean didn't catch it. His green eyes watched Sam like a hawk, ready to intervene at the first sign of weakness. To be the crutch for his brother, for any of his problems.

Dean yearned to grab Sam's forearm and help steady him but instead his hands remained useless by his sides.

Sam leaned back against the lockers as soon as he'd managed to stand, his face paling considerably, but he didn't utter another word, just closed his eyes and laid his head back, forcing his lungs to breath in and out. Why did it hurt so much to _breathe?_

"Sam?" Dean asked, voice wavering in concern for his younger sibling. There was no mistake, the kid was acting _weird_. Extremely weird and Dean was going to find out why.

Two tired hazel eyes met his briefly before they widened in alarm and he doubled over. Coughing as if he was trying to hack one of his lungs out. The coughs ripped at his throat painfully, making his eyes water as he gasped for breath in between. But the thin breathes of air he took where shallow and left him slightly lightheaded.

'Screw this,' Dean thought and rushed to his brother's aid, wrapping an arm around Sammy's midsection to hold him upright.

Sam's defenses were crumbling. His whole body felt like one gigantic bruise and he couldn't seem to get enough air. Just as he thought he'd lose his balance and tip over strong hands were there, gently holding him upright, warm reassurances whispered to him as one hand started making comforting circles between his shoulders. Dean. Protecting him just as he had when they where kids. He didn't think even Dean could save him from this though.

"Dean," Sam moaned, leaning into his brother, sounding like he was eight years old once again as the painful hacking continued.

"I gotcha Sammy," the older Winchester promised his calm tone a complete opposite to the concern he felt inside, "I gotcha."

The coughs subsided after a couple more minutes, Dean felt relieved as Sam sagged wearily against him.

Then Dean saw Sammy's hand that he had used to cover his coughs.

And the blood that glistened in his palm.

"Shit Sammy," he breathed.

Dean pulled out his cell phone with numb fingers, making sure to keep one arm wrapped around his little brother. He dialed the numbers he knew by heart and waited, worry making his heart rate quicken.

"911 what is your emergency?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please feel free to leave a comment or drop a kudo, I love getting feedback form you guys! Thanks for reading!


	5. The Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's added a kudo to this story. I smile and get really excited whenever I get the email that tells me. So THANK YOU!! Hope you enjoy this next chapter! :)

Dean rode in the ambulance with his little brother. Clutching Sam's had as if that's what was keeping him alive.

The paramedics where speaking their medical mumbo jumbo, but nothing they said made any sense to Dean so instead he tuned them out.

He narrowed his world down to his little brother who was quickly losing his battle with consciousness.

The pain in his chest had grown, it felt as if someone was piercing a javelin through his chest every time he tried to breath. He was vaguely aware of people hovering above him but his eyesight and hearing was fluctuating. Someone was calling his name and he wished they would stop poking him. The darkness that lingered on the edge of his vision seemed so calm and peaceful and he desperately wanted to just give into the blissfulness of sleep.

"Come on Sammy."

Dean. That was Dean's voice. What was Dean doing here? A fog had settled over his brain and Sam couldn't piece together what was going on. That knowledge should have worried him, but he was too distracted by the pain.

He started coughing again, the blood in his throat threatening to choke him until the turned him on his side. The unknown hands laid him back down once the coughs had subsided but now his breathing was irregular and even more shallow than before. Can't breathe, can't breathe, his brain shouted, panic starting to settle in.

Someone was putting something cold against his face and he gave up trying to stay awake. He closed his eyes and let go of consciousness.

Dean watched helplessly as the paramedics continued to work on his brother. They were forced to put an oxygen mask on to help him breathe.

Sammy couldn't breathe.

The thought shocked him and made him sick to his stomach.

'If I ever get my hands on those assholes who did this to my brother…'he let the angry thought hang, picturing different forms of punishment he could inflict upon them. Trying to memorize every aspect of the faces he'd only gotten glimpses of.

No one got away with hurting his brother. And he planned on making that point very clear.

Sam's eyes which had been becoming increasingly less and less attentive to those around him slowly drifted shut.

Immediately Dean sat straighter and tried to position himself closer to Sammy.

"Don't do this," he begged, not caring if the medics heard him, not caring if this was one of those hated 'chick-flick' moments. Right now he just wanted his brother, "Come on Sammy, don't you dare."

But Sam remained unresponsive the rest of the way to the hospital.

When the ambulance pulled up the hospital staff was waiting with a gurney. Ready to jump into action at the quickest possible opportunity.

The eldest Winchester sibling hopped out of the back and followed them until he felt a hand on his chest stop him.

He looked up at the young male doctor, everything he needed to say expressed in a questioning glare.

"You have to stay here," the doctor explained, sounding apologetic.

Over his shoulder Dean could see the doors to the emergency doors swing shut, cutting off his view of his brother.

"That's my brother," Dean stated simply, gesturing weakly at where they'd taken Sam.

The doctor's gaze softened but he didn't relent, "I'm sorry," he told Dean, meaning it, "I promise you he's in the best possible care. What we need you to do now is to fill out some forms for us here, okay?"

The doctor's blue eyes remained firmly on Dean's until he nodded in defeat. The doctor placed a gentle hand on the obviously distressed sibling.

"I'll have someone come out to get you as soon as we have news."

With that the doctor strode quickly away to watch over his young new patient.

Dean watched him leave helplessly. Feeling like the greatest failure on the planet. He should've gotten there sooner. Should've protected Sammy. Should've never listened to his dad. This was his fault. This was all his fault.

"Excuse me? Sir?" A petite brunette nurse pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?" he stuttered, glancing down at her.

She gave him a sweet smile, "Here are the forms we'll need for your brother," she handed him a clipboard and a pen, "You can take a seat over there if you want," she offered, gesturing towards the waiting area, when Dean turned his gaze back to the emergency doors she added sarcastically, "Or stand there, cause that'll prove to everyone how tough you are."

Her last comment made his lips quirk upwards, but nowhere close to his usual confident grin.

He lumbered over to the waiting area, sat in an uncomfortable chair, and started filling out the paperwork. It was nothing too extravagant. Sam's first name, last name, date of birth, his hand hesitated over the line that asked for his brother's address.

His mind drew up a blank. He knew it, he'd driven seven hours to find it, but he just couldn't remember.

He gave up after a couple minutes, setting the clipboard down in the empty seat next to him and wiped his face roughly with his hands. He didn't know his brother's address. He didn't know if Sam had any allergies. Did the kid take any medication? Was there some life-threatening illness Sam had that he didn't know about?

In the corner of his eye he saw a sign that led to a pay phone. He stood up and walked over, hoping that there'd at least be a phone book that could tell him the address and, with any luck, a way to get in touch with that Miranda chick.

He was in luck, at the bottom of the pay phone was a thick yellow book. Dean brought the phone book back over to his previous seat and started surfing through the pages until he found it. '589 Rogers Drive,' he mouthed as he scribbled it down on the paper.

Listed under the address was also the home phone number and two cell phones, Miranda and Thomas.

He pulled out his cellphone and dialed in the correct numbers, leg bouncing up and down as he waited.

"Hello?" she picked up on the third ring.

"Miranda?" Dean asked.

"Uh-huh, who is this please?"

"It's, Dean," he told her, glancing around the near empty hospital.

Besides him there was only four other people in the waiting room.

Something in his tone must have cued her in, "What's wrong?"

"Sam got hurt."

"Where?"

"At school, but we're uh, we're at the county hospital right now."

"How bad?" she breathed.

"I don't know," Dean admitted, the feeling of helplessness returned in full vengeance, "I don't know Miranda."

"I'll be right there," she promised.

Dean couldn't explain it, but an immense sense of relief followed that statement. He hung up the phone and hesitated, debating whether or not to call his father. He decided against it. If John had truly cared about Sam's physical well-being then he'd have come here himself, he wouldn't have left his child, Dean's _brother_ with strangers and never glanced back.

Dean ran a hand through his short cropped hair and returned to his previous seat, resigning himself for the long wait ahead of him.

_Sam groaned, squirming on the examination table as the nurse stitched up his cut on his neck._

_"He's waking up," she announced._

_Immediately the head doctor, Dr. Gilles, rushed over and proceeded to lean over the young patient._

_"Sam? Sam you hear me son?" He asked, gently tapping the boy's cheek._

_Hazel eyes fluttered open with another groan._

_"De'?" he whispered._

_"Huh?" Dr. Gilles asked, pulling out a pen light and checking the responsiveness of Sam's pupils._

_The boy's eyes opened in panic, the heart beat monitor going off the charts as his chest heaved up and down._

_"Dean!" he yelled, starting to struggle against the medical staff._

_"Sedate him!" Dr. Gilles ordered, pinning Sam's shoulders to the table, cursing as the boy's frantic movements caused another spurt of blood to leak through the cut in his neck._

_A nurse hurried over and stuck a needle into the I.V._

_Sam's movements became sluggish._

_"De-dean!" he whimpered as his body went slack._

_When Sam next awoke he was in a recovery room. His eyes fluttered open and he gazed around. Something was wrapped around his neck but he was too out of it to really care. A needle was stuck in his right arm._

_'I'll have to ask Dean to take that out,' he thought to himself not liking needles in the slightest. At the thought of Dean his head whipped around in search for his brother, but his room was empty. 'Maybe he went out for coffee,' he told himself, trying to quell the nervousness that was slowly building in his gut. Dean never left him alone when he's in a hospital. Not when he knew that Sam was terrified of them._

_'What if he got hurt?' he wondered, heart beat picking up at the thought._

_The door to his room opened slowly and Sam's hope soared, knowing his brother would peer around it any moment with his cocky grin and tease him for being so worried._

_Only it wasn't Dean on the other side of the door. It was a small lady and a tall man._

_Clearly neither were doctors as they came in and sat down. The lady smiled kindly at him and the man nodded._

_"Looks like someone's awake," the lady said cheerfully as she sat down, although her smile never reached her eyes._

_"Where's Dean?" Sam demanded, to wrapped up in his own worry to even consider being polite._

_At her confused look Sam asked, "Where's my brother?" his tone was slowly raising as he got more agitated by the second._

_"Sam," the lady sounded so sad and apologetic as she delivered the final blow, "Your brother's not here."_

Dean remained firmly seated next to his unconscious brother. Holding Sam's limp hand between both of his own, the doctor's words echoing in his mind. Whatever surgery they had been forced to do had taken two hours.

Two hours that felt like a lifetime to the eldest Winchester. Miranda had arrived about ten minutes after he called, dropping everything in order to get there as soon as she possibly could. He'd had to give her the forms to fill out, the feeling of failure resting heavily on his shoulders as she answered each question swift and easily.

Then the doctor who'd told Dean to stay back, Dr. Bernston, he learned, had come and announced that Sam was in a recovery room and that they could sit with him now.

Most of the doctor's explanations had gone in one ear and out the other, but two phrases from the doctor kept swirling in his mind as he sat next to Sam.

'Punctured lung, almost lost him,' those last three words especially. They made him sick to his stomach. Sammy had nearly died. Could've died and Dean would have to live with knowing that he hadn't been able to fix anything.

His eyes drifted towards his brother's other hand which had been placed gracefully across his chest. Beneath, though hidden from view, Dean knew were the bandages from the surgery. One of his brother's ribs had been broken and then in turn had nicked a lung, but they'd repaired it. Dean wished his relationship with his brother could be repaired as easily.

"He'll be okay Dean," Miranda told him from the other side of the bed.

Dean nodded mechanically but didn't glance at her.

"Did you know?" he blurted out, unable to help himself.

"Know what?" she asked gently.

"About the bullying?" he glared at her over Sam's chest, needing to pin the blame for this whole scenario on somebody, nerves and left over anxiety from the recent scare he'd had blinding his judgement momentarily. He softened his gaze as soon as he saw the blatant look of regret and horror in her eyes and reprimanded himself for even thinking such a thing.

"I wish," she replied, giving him a quiet smile, "Sam never said a thing, just that school was going good..." her voice trailed off, "I should have known."

Dean shook his head, "This isn't your fault."

She shrugged, "Maybe." She stood up and brushed her hands on her jeans, "I think I'm going to go home and get some of Sam's belongings since we don't know how long his recovery is going to take."

Dean nodded absently.

Miranda moved to the other side of the bed. She placed a comforting hand on the distressed older brother's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze.

Dean felt tears prick at his eyes although they'd never fall, he was a Winchester after all.

"I couldn't even fill out that form all the way," he muttered brokenly, "What kind of a brother am I?"

Miranda squeezed his shoulder again, "Dean, this isn't your fault."

"Yeah," he agreed unconvincingly.

She hesitated making a move towards the door, sighing when she realized nothing she could say would ever ease Dean's nerves or fears, not until Sammy woke up. Instead she excused herself and walked out of the small room.

Dean returned his focus on his little brother.

"Don't you dare leave me," he growled under his breath, "Please Sammy, not now."

Sam's hand stirred in his grasp as if in answer to Dean's pleas.

"Sammy?" Dean asked eagerly, standing up and bending over his younger brother to get a better look at the kid's face.

Sam scrunched his brow together and gazed blurrily at him. His eyes widened, obviously surprised.

"Dean?"

"Yeah kiddo?" Dean asked, confused at the astonishment written across Sam's face.

Sam relaxed against the pillows, eyes already starting to drift shut, "Jus' wasn't sure if you'd really stay."

A lump formed in Dean's throat as he gingerly brushed some bangs off of Sam's face. Smiling softly at the way Sam ever so gently leaned into his touch.

"I'm going to stay right here kiddo," he promised.

Sam smiled as his hazel eyes drifted shut, but the doubt that lingered was evident in his facial expression until all the lines on his face smoothed out in sleep.

Doubt Dean didn't know how to wipe away.

How could he possibly rebuild the trust that they'd shared so long ago?

No wonder he wasn't sure how to react, he realized, he still thinks I'm going to leave him. He wanted to punch a wall, to relieve some of this war of emotions that was building inside of him. The thoughts and feelings all spiraling down to the fact that he had done this. He had let his father drive away that night. He was too weak to disobey his father and visit Sammy himself. He had one job, protect Sammy, and he failed, miserably.

"I'm not leaving Sammy," he whispered, resuming his earlier position in the chair and taking Sam's hand again. He wiped the back of Sam's hand with his calloused thumb, "Not ever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you have the time, please leave a comment or drop a kudo, constructive criticism is welcome! :)


	6. Are We Brothers?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, very much to those who've given this story kudos, it means the world to me, thank you!!!! Hope you enjoy this next chapter! :)

_"So...are we brothers?" Sam asked curiously, tiny legs dangling off of the side of his new bed._

_He liked his room. The bed had race car sheets and the lamp was a Lion King lamp._

_Zach, the oldest foster kid there, three years older than Sam sat next to him. Blond bangs thrown carelessly across his face._

_"Foster brothers," he corrected._

_"I have," Sam scrunched up his face, "I had a brother. He used to tell me he'd always be there."_

_Sam's bottom lip trembled._

_Zach sighed, 'poor kid,' he thought, he wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulders and pulled him into his side protectively._

_"Well, foster brothers are much cooler," he stated, determined to see the runt smile._

_"Really?" doubtful hazel eyes met his cool blue ones, "How?"_

_"Well..." Zach scratched his brain, before coming up with, "'Cause we go much deeper than blood ever could. 'Cause when we got no one else we've got each other."_

_"Wow," Sam sighed, snuggling into his side.  
_

_"Yeah, isn't that cool kiddo?"_

_He felt Sam stiffen slightly in his grasp, "Dean used to call me that," came a trembled reply._

_Zach let out a lungful of air, "Well from now on I'll call you squirt, got it?"_

_"Got it," Sam told him._

_Before Zach knew it two thin arms where wrapping themselves around his chest. Sam hugged him, after only a millisecond of hesitation Zach hugged him right back.  
_

_"Thank you," Sam whispered._

_"Anytime squirt, we're bros, right?"_

_"Right."_

Zach walked into the hospital wearing jeans and a button up shirt, the norm for him ever since he'd started going to the nearby community college. He strolled in and moved towards the desk up front. Miranda had called him after his last class and told him the news about Sam. He'd driven over after hanging up, determined to see for himself how the little squirt was doing.

He smiled at himself as he waited behind a mother holding a squalling infant, he'd felt protective of Sammy ever since that first day he'd arrived at the foster house. The scared eight year old had quickly latched onto his eleven year old self, becoming like a shadow and Zach had never had the heart to tell him to leave.

"How can I help you?" the nurse's voice at the front desk drew him out of his thoughts.

"Uhm, I'm looking for Sam Winchester," he told her.

She typed the name into the database.

"Are you related?" she questioned.

"We're brother's," he said instantly.

She didn't seem positive of his answer, he'd seen pictures of him and Sam, they looked nothing alike, but she relented at his earnest gaze and told him the room number.

"Thank you," he told her, quickly moving to find Sam.

Dean had been nursing the same cup of coffee for the past hour. It was cold and disgusting and he was really considering going to get a new cup. He wouldn't though. He'd nurse the same cup of coffee for a year if it meant he got to stay by Sam.

Sitting in the chair while Sam dozed he marveled at how this was closest he'd been to his brother in eight years. _Eight years._ The thought made him shutter. The door opened tentatively and a man not much younger than himself stepped in.

The man had wavy blond hair and pale skin. His blue eyes widened at the sight of Dean, mirroring Dean's own shock. Clearly neither had been expecting someone else to be there.

In their shock they failed to realize that the reason they were both there had woken up.

"Zach?" Sam asked softly, blinking the bleariness from his eyes.

Zach gave Dean a last glance before confidently striding over to the other side of Sam's bed.

"Hey squirt," he said with his usual carefree grin.

He ruffled Sam's hair, earning a squeal and a smile from the younger.

Dean's heart clenched, remembering the way Sam had flinched from his touch only hours earlier. How he hadn't accepted his help until he really hadn't had a choice.

He felt jealousy start pump through his veins like a poison at the way Sam's eyes had lit up at the sight of this Zach person. 'That should be me,' he thought, then a voice whispered in the back of his head, 'but you gave it up the moment you got into the car and let dad drive away.'

He cleared his throat, "I'll, uh, go get some more coffee," he stated, waiting until Sam nodded before he excused himself and exited the door, wanting to excuse himself before he did or said something rash.

"Who was that?" Zach asked as soon as the door shut.

He had his suspicions. He'd heard all about the visit Sam's older brother had paid yesterday at dinner last night. but he wanted to hear it directly from Sam.

"Dean," Sam said, slowly becoming more serious.

"Like, you're big brother Dean?" Zach asked, settling down in a chair.

Sam nodded, the sheets suddenly becoming fascinating to the young Winchester as he picked at them.

Zach watched him for a second, "So...you guys good?"

Sam huffed and shrugged, "I don't know. We don't hate each other..."

Zach nodded, trying to wrap his mind around everything that Sam must currently be going through, "How do you feel about it?"

Sam's lips quirked upwards, "Dude, you aren't a therapist."

"Not yet," Zach conceded, leaning forward onto his elbows, "But someday. This is practice."

"Well, the cup over there is three quarters full of water," Sam said teasingly, pointing to a little paper cup by the sink in the corner of the room, "It represents my life," he started to fake cry, "I'm just so _sad!"_

Zach slapped Sam's leg playfully, "Shut up."

Sam laughed and winced as the action pulled at the stitches in his side.

"Seriously though," the older boy stated, "From what you used to tell me I don't get why you aren't leaping for joy right now."

Sam pursed his lips, "I don't know," he admitted, "I guess I just can't stop myself from thinking that he'll leave again."

Zach was saved from having to come up with an insightful answer by the sound of his watch which had started beeping. He was late for his shift at Subway.

He stood up and gripped Sam's shoulder, "Well, I hope it works out squirt," he told him, meaning every word.

He walked towards the door and turned around just as he got to the handle, "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Maybe you weren't the only one that lost a brother that night," he said, at Sam's hesitant gaze he shrugged, "It's worth thinking about."

Sam waved goodbye as he opened the door and stepped outside.

Maybe Dean had lost his little brother.

But he'd still had dad. Still had the impala. Hadn't been dumped with strangers-

Dean was just returning from his coffee run. A new styrofoam cup of the steaming brew clutched in one hand as he made his way back up the hallway to his brother's room. As he approached the door opened and the blonde kid stepped out. Dean paused mid-step.

Should he act as if he didn't see him? Maybe introduce himself? Before he could decide between the two blondie decided for him.

"Hey Dean," he greeted.

Dean sighed inwardly and moved closer until they were both standing just outside of Sam's room.

"Hey..."He replied.

"Oh, I'm Zach," informed Zach, holding out a hand in welcome.

Dean shook it.

"Sam and I live in the same foster home," Zach explained with a slight nod towards the closed door.

Dean nodded slowly, not liking the constant reminders of his failure.

When the older Winchester didn't reply Zach chose to continue on the conversation, "He talks about you all the time you know."

Dean's eyes widened in a very obvious, no I didn't know that.

"He really looks up to you," he continued, "Just give him time. I'm glad you came back."

"Me too," Dean muttered, unsure how to process this new information.

Zach strode off down the hallway after a wave of goodbye.

Dean waved back and paused before hesitantly opening the door. If what Zach said had been true...maybe their brotherhood wasn't such a lost cause after all. For the first time in a long time a flicker of hope bloomed in his chest.

Sam was picking at his bed sheet, looking as lost as Dean felt inside.

"Hey Sammy," he said, shutting the door behind him and returning to his previous seat. He swore that the plastic practically had a mold of his rear end by now.

"Hey Dean," came a less than enthusiastic response.

"Zach seems...nice," he commented, attempting to keep up a decent conversation.

Sam nodded, "He is, he wants to be a therapist."

"Oh really?" Dean feigned interest in the topic.

Their tones were polite and stiff at best. They were walking on eggshells and Dean didn't know if he wanted to be there when one cracked beneath them.

Sam continued to look down at the itchy sheet instead of looking at his brother.

"Yeah, uhm, he wants to help kids like us."

Sam regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

"Like you?"

Sam closed his eyes briefly, wishing he could go back and delete his previous comment.

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled with a shrug.

"It does to me," Dean said in a soft tone.

Sam bit his lip and chanced a glance at Dean. So many emotions bubbling to the surface from just looking at his brother and he didn't know why. He couldn't control them and that frustrated him to no end. Sam had to be in control, had to be, at least of himself. He'd had no control what so ever of being left behind, so by golly was he going to control his emotions.

"Why?" his voice cracked on the word, yeah, he thought, so much for control.

Dean looked at him confused, "Why? Why what?"

"Why does it matter?" now anger was starting to blind him, he found himself wanting to hurt his brother just as badly as he'd been hurt, the pain in his chest barely registering as the anger seeped through his veins, "It never did before!"

"Sam-"

"Eight years!" Sam yelled, unable to contain all those years of pent up rage, "Eight years and not one damn phone call! Or letter! Or anything! Just gone!"

"I'm sor-" Dean tried to apologize but was once again cut off by his brother.

"No you're not don't you dare say that!" Sam all but screamed, "Eight years! I was alone!"

He felt the anger slowly ebb out of his system. His tone growing softer, eyes glistening with tears that threatened to leak out.

Dean sucked in a breath, waiting. Making sure Sam was done.

"You aren't alone Sam," he said in a quiet voice.

Sam's chest was heaving and Dean knew he was trying to hold something back. Whether it was tears or more yelling Dean wasn't sure.

So he repeated his statement, "You aren't alone, not anymore."

The first tear slid down Sam's cheek followed by another and another until it was as if the dam inside of the youngest Winchester had been let loose. Then Dean was there. Holding him and talking, rubbing circles on his back, talking to him. Sam wrapped his arms around his brother and clung to him as if his life depended on it.

It hurt to cry, his chest ached with each gasp of breath and yet he needed to. Those were the words he'd needed to hear for eight years. And Dean was the one who'd always have had to say them.

Dean started rocking them, holding Sam close, burying his face in Sam's curls.

"Not a day goes by that I don't regret it," he told Sam, close to tears himself, but somehow reigning them in, focusing on helping his little brother, "I should have barged in and taken you with me. Run away if we had too...I'm sorry Sam," Dean's voice wavered, "I'm sorry and I know nothing I can do will make it up for those eight years, but you aren't alone. Not anymore, not ever, and don't you ever doubt that."

He continued to hold Sam in a firm yet soft embrace.

One of Sam's hands eventually snaked up Dean's chest and found its way to the familiar amulet, seeking the reassurance like he had as a child. His fingers brushed over it. He pulled away and fingered it, shocked written clearly across his features.

"You k-kept it," Sam said, fingering the necklace like it was sacred, not bothering to wipe away the tear stains on his face. Sam rubbed a thumb over the amulet.

"I kept it," Dean said with a nod, watching his little brother.

"W-why?"

Dean contemplated lying, after all, his whole reputation was on the line, but Dean knew that what Sam needed right now was the truth. So that's what he gave him.

"I needed to hold on to my little brother in the little way that I could. But it was never enough, God, it was never near enough."

Sam's bottom lip trembled and a few more tears slipped out. Dean reached up and thumbed them away with a gentleness that was rarely seen from the elder Winchester.

Sam let go of the necklace and let his hands drop lifelessly to his lap.

"But you...you never called," it was a statement but Sam said it as if it was a question.

Dean pulled Sam back into his arms, "Dad told me we couldn't," he explained, "He said you were happy, that you had a bright future...and it killed me Sam."

Sam shook his head furiously, rubbing his head against Dean's chest, "How could I be happy without my family?"

Dean rubbed a hand up and down Sam's back.

"I'm sorry Sammy, I'm so, _so,_ sorry."

Sam snuggled up against him and Dean held him, being careful not to injure his brother any further.

Sam sighed, allowing himself to melt into his brother's embrace.

He took in the smell of his brother. The stale smell of gunpowder, the smell of whatever cologne he used. Just _Dean._

Dean wrapped his arms around his brother again, wishing he could take back everything that had happened. Wishing that he could hold and protect Sammy from the pain he had been harboring all this time. Not caring if this was considered a chic-flick moment.

"Dean..."Sam hesitated, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. Since when had his world been filled with this much gray? Couldn't he get the easy road in life, just once? He plowed on though, knowing that his next statement was important, "I forgive you."

Dean squeezed Sam slightly in response, unable to find the words.

He didn't deserve Sam's forgiveness, not even close. But this kid. _His_ kid still gave it to him openly.

Rock music started blaring from his pocket.

Dean's brow furrowed as he pulled away. Sam wiped his cheeks, somewhat embarrassed at his breakdown as he watched his brother pulled his cell out of the pocket of his leather jacket. Dean's scowl deepened when he read the caller id.

"Who is it?" Sam asked tentatively.

"It's...dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading it and if you have the time please leave a comment or drop a kudo. Thanks for reading! :)


	7. Bond of Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry for the late update. A huge thanks to everyone who's left kudos!! Hope you enjoy! :)

"Dad?" Sam gulped, unsure how to process the information.

He could see the indecision written clearly on his older brother's face as the phone rang again.

"Are you going to pick up?" He asked, not positive what answer he was hoping for. 'Maybe he's going to leave me after all.'

He expected Dean to roll his eyes and pick up the phone, perhaps promise to call his-no-their father later. Dean did neither. He simply turned his phone off and shoved it in his pocket. Sam didn't miss the angry look that accompanied the action.

This confused him. Hadn't Dean and his dad always gotten along? They had when he'd been with them, and while he supposed that when he had been with them it was a long, long, time ago, for some reason he'd just expected them to remain close.

"It's a long story," Dean muttered in response to his younger brother's probing gaze.

_"So what are you going to do? Hmm Dean? Run off? Find your brother maybe? What then huh?" his dad sneered._

_Dean hesitated, fingers just mere inches above the hotel's doorknob. Other hand clutching his already packed duffle bag. He'd snapped. He'd finally had enough and he was going to find Sammy and fix this mess that he called his family if it killed him._

_Which, judging by the look on his father's face, it very well might._

_"Maybe I will find Sam," Dean retorted, the fist holding his duffle growing steadily tighter._

_"He's not a hunter anymore Dean," his father argued, "What do you plan to do? Settle down? Drop everything for the kid."_

_The kid. That'd basically been Sam's title to their father ever since they'd dropped him off. Or Dean's brother. But never Sam. Sam was too painful. Sam was the chubby four year old who crawled into Dean's bed whenever he had nightmares. The kid who wore his heart on his sleeve._

_Sam was the brother Dean foolishly trusted his dad enough to let go._

_The one he was going to find if it killed him._

_He and his father had had many arguments about going back, but this one was different. It felt more final._

_Dean was really going to leave this time and no thing or being was going to stop him and they both knew it._

_"I'm going to be there for Sam," Dean vowed, "That's more than you could ever say."_

_He yanked the door open and stormed out to the impala before his father had a chance to reply. He jerked open the impala's door and threw his bag inside before plopping behind the steering wheel, heart beating fast, nerves fried. He glanced down and looked at his hands which shook slightly. He'd never defied a direct order form his father before now. Now he wondered why it'd taken him so long to wake up.  
_

_He decided to buy himself some time to calm down and pulled out his phone. He punched in a familiar number._

_"Hello," a gruff voice answered._

_"Bobby? I need a favor, I need you to help me find my brother."_

Sam watched his brother curiously, "I thought you and dad got along," he said, trying to piece together what might have put that sour look on his brother's face.

Dean ran a hand through his short hair, "We did…for the most part," he replied vaguely.

"What didn't you get along on?" Sam asked, remaining persistent in his search to understand what could make his brother hate the man who had once been his hero.

Dean didn't know what to say. How do you phrase, 'we fought over you, but dad didn't want to come and see you,' or 'I left because of you', without making it sound as if it was Sam's fault. He knew the kid, Sam'd twist all the facts around until he was the one to blame when that was the furthest possible thing from the truth.

"Dean, what is it?" Sam questioned, "What aren't you telling me?"

The door opened and a nurse walked in, effectively cutting off their conversation.

Sam shot Dean a look and the elder Winchester didn't need eight years to decipher it. They weren't done talking. Not even close. He stood up from his spot on the bed next to Sam so that he wouldn't hinder the woman as she did her job. He stood just a couple feet away from the bed, stretching his arms and popping his neck with a content sigh.

"Hiya Sam," the nurse said cheerfully, checking his chart at the end of the bed, "And how are we feeling this afternoon?"

"I'm good," Sam informed her, keeping Dean in the corner of his eye.

"Any pain or irritation around the incision area?" the nurse asked, moving across to write down his vitals.

"Nope, I'm good," Sam said again quickly, hoping the nurse could just leave so that he could continue grilling his brother.

She smiled, "Okie dokie, give me just a sec to finish writing this and then I'll go get the doctor, okay sweetie?"

"Okay."

She smiled again, finished writing whatever she was writing and hooked the charts back at the end of the bed before bustling out of the room.

There was a beat of awkward silence before Sam dove right in.

"What happened between you and dad?"

"We just had a couple fights Sam, no biggie," Dean told his brother with a nonchalant shrug.

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him, "Uh-huh, what happened?"

"Why won't you-"

"Because he was your hero!" Sam interrupted, slightly irritated that Dean kept trying to evade the subject, "You worshiped the man what _happened_?"

Dean shook his head, tone sounding calmer as he replied as honestly as he could manage, "We just grew apart I guess. We cared about different things."

"What things?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean's green eyes pierced his, "I think you know."

"The hunt?" Sam guessed, wrinkling his nose at the word he hadn't used in so long. Mind flashing to those nights he'd lay in bed wondering if his father would ever walk back through the door. Worrying that this might be the time he was left alone with Dean.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, and other things..."

"Well that isn't vague," Sam quipped.

Dean gave him a sly grin, before his expression turned serious, eyes flashing darkly.

"What?" Sam asked afraid he'd already screwed something up and didn't even know it.

"You still haven't told me who those guys were."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, mixed feelings of relief that no he hadn't messed up mingled with embarrassment. Had he been a true Winchester none of this would've happened, he couldn't bare to see Dean look at him like he was some sort of sissy who couldn't even deal with one pathetic bully, "Just a bunch of idiots, really, just forget about it."

"How can I forget about it when you have a huge bruise on your cheek and those assholes put you in a hospital?!" Dean exploded just as the doctor stepped into the room.

Dr. James, the doctor who'd been looking over Sam since his admittance to the hospital cleared his throat.

Both Winchester's looked at him, clearly not having heard his entrance. Sam looked slightly relieved at his intrusion, but Dean glared, annoyed that whenever they tried talking someone kept getting in the way.

How could Sam not realize that he could never 'just forget' that he had nearly lost his brother again? He stepped away from the bed once more to give the doctor room and vowed to himself that he would find those kids who had done this, whether Sam helped him or not.

"Excuse me," Dr. James quickly apologized, the tension in the room so thick he could practically touch it. He pulled out his stethoscope and walked to his patient.

Sam sucked in a breath when the cool metal was pressed against his chest. Dr. James smiled apologetically.

"Okay Sam, I'm just going to look at the incision area to make sure everything's okay, alright?"

He waited for the young man's nod of consent before he helped him shrug off the top of his hospital gown, revealing the bandages and angry welts that covered his skin, coloring it in various shades of yellow, green, and blue.

Dean bristled at the sight but forced his face to remain calm when Sam's gaze landed on him questioningly. Yep, he was definitely going to kill those bastards.

With precision that came only through practice Dr. James unwrapped the cloth bandages. The dark line of stitches on his right side stood out against Sam's pale skin. The skin surrounding them slightly pinkish, but otherwise healthy looking.

Dr. James probed the area with gentle fingers, knowing from experience that pink could be just healing skin, or the beginning signs of an infection.

"And there's no pain when I do this?" he pressed a finger to the pink skin.

Sam shook his head.

"Okay, and you don't feel any discomfort?"

Sam bit his lip, "They're a little itchy," he admitted, knowing in his gut that he could trust this man before him.

Dr. James straightened, "That's a good thing actually, it means you're healing."

"Doc, when can I go home?" Sam questioned, slipping his arms back into the gown and yanking it back on to cover his thin chest.

The doctor re-checked the charts at the end of Sam's bed, "How does tomorrow afternoon sound?"

He smiled when he saw his patient's face light up at the news, "Sounds good to me doctor."

"Sam?" Dr. James waited to make sure he had all of Sam's attention, "If you feel nauseous, or light headed, or any discomfort besides just itching, I need you to tell me right away okay?"

"What could those things be a sign of?" Dean asked.

Dr. James set down the clipboards on the end of the bed, "Infection."

"Is he-"

"As of right now he doesn't show any signs of having one," he quickly stated, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalated, "That's just one of the risks with having to go in as we did."

Dean nodded in understanding, "Thank you."

Dr. James nodded and exited the room to continue making his rounds with all of his patients.

Before Dean could start trying to shake some sense into his little brother's thick head Sam sighed dejectedly and asked in the most innocent tone, "Can we not argue? Please?"

Dean became confused at Sam's request, remembering the hours spent with non-stop bickering between the two of them, but nodded nonetheless.

"Look kiddo," he plopped down on the bed and placed a comforting hand on Sam's blanket covered leg, "I told you about me and dad, the least you can do is tell me the names of the kids who did this to you," Dean even went so far as to add, "Please."

Sam gulped. The only time he'd heard Dean say please was when he'd broken his arm while they were playing superheroes.

_"I'm Superman!" Dean proclaimed, jumping off of the ledge while holding an arm in the air in resemblance to his icon. He landed on the tire bits with a slight jolt, but otherwise kept his balance._

_"I wanna fly! I wanna fly!" Sam stated excitedly, positioning himself as he'd just seen Dean do._

_"Sammy come on, only Superman can fly," Dean argued, looking up at his brother who was standing on the edge of the playground equipment._

_This particular playground had a fireman's pole in it, which was why Dean had brought Sam here on his bike in the first place. They had decided to play superheroes, a favorite game of theirs. Dean was always Superman, by far the coolest hero in his opinion, and Sammy was Batman. Not as cool, but cool enough he supposed._

_Of course, Dean knew that the only reason Sam had chosen Batman as his favorite hero was because Batman defeated the Joker, a crazy clown, and Sam was terrified of clowns._

_"Batman can to fly," Sam pouted._

_"Can not," Dean argued._

_"Can to!"_

_"Can not!"_

_"Can to!"_

_"Yeah? Then prove it," Dean challenged with a smirk, not thinking Sam might actually heed his words and jump._

_Which is, of course, exactly what the little brat did._

_Only Sam was only four. He didn't jump and land gracefully like Dean. He fell and crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. Immediately he started crying, wailing as Dean hurried to find out what was wrong._

_"Sam? You okay? Sammy!" Dean sat down and picked up the bawling Sam, placing him in his lap, frantically trying to find out what was wrong with his brother._

_"De'" Sam sobbed, snuggling into his chest._

_"Where're you hurt kiddo?" Dean asked, trying to remain calm for Sam's sake as he laced his fingers through Sam's soft curly locks of hair._

_"My arm," came a hiccuped reply, "It hurts real bad De'."_

_The next thing Sam knew Dean was picking him up and sprinting to his bicycle._

_Sam's tears never stopped falling as Dean somehow managed to position him on the handles and started pedaling them to the nearest hospital as fast as his little legs would take him._

_He got them to the hospital, miraculously without tipping over and somehow managed to pick his baby brother up and dash inside._

_"Help! My brother!" he cried._

_Nurses rushed forward at the sound of his call. Hands reached to take Sam away but Dean wouldn't let go._

_"If you want us to fix your brother your going to have to let go sweetie," a kind elderly nurse told him, compassion shining in her soft brown eyes._

_Dean's grip on his brother loosened._

_"Please be okay Sammy," he whispered to his brother as he let someone take Sam into their arms and away from him, "Please."_

Dean had done much more than just taking Sam to the hospital that day. That was the day when Sam had connected the word hero and used it to describe his brother.

That was the day he stopped looking to his father for praise and instead followed his new hero. Dean.

He glanced at the urgency in Dean's eyes, the desperate _need_ written across his features that remained there no matter how hard Dean tried to school his features.

Then it hit Sam like a punch to the gut.

'He's not doing for him, he's doing it for me,' his eyebrows rose at the newfound knowledge, 'Dean is trying to protect me. He wouldn't want to protect me if he was planning on just leaving, right?'

Sam closed his eyes, "Okay," Dean face lightened up hopefully, "But, if I do, you need to tell me about you and dad, I know you aren't telling me everything." He gave Dean a pointed stare as if daring him to deny the fact.

"Cross my heart," Dean promised solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the time please leave a comment and/or a kudo, thanks for reading! :)


	8. Revenge is Sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long wait. A huge thanks for all who've left kudos!!! Hope you enjoy this latest chapters!

Sam paused, trying to look into his eyes and finding only honesty in the dark green depths.

"The kid's name is Max," he sighed, "He's the principal's son."

"What about the other two?" Dean asked, recalling that he had seen three kids beating up his brother, shivering at the memory and knowing he would never be able to get that sickening sight out of his mind.

"They're friend of his, Killian and Dominic," a strange sense of both foreboding and relief mingled inside of Sam as he started to open up to his brother. As he started to trust him, just a little.

"And that was the first time they'd bullied you?" Dean already knew the answer but he had to hear Sam say it.

"No," Sam said, so quietly Dean couldn't catch it.

"What?"

"No," Sam said louder, shifting under Dean's gaze, "No that wasn't the first time."

"How long?" the older brother demanded, desperately trying to remain objective as he pried the information from his little brother.

"Few weeks," Sam mumbled.

"A few weeks?! And you didn't think to tell anyone Sam?"

Dean cursed himself when he caught Sam's slight flinch at his tone.

"Who could I tell? Miranda? She doesn't deserve that shit, Zach's busy, besides, it was just a little bully."

"Who sent your ass to the hospital," Dean pointed out.

Dean ran a hand along his chin, feeling stubble scratch against his palm.

"Why didn't you tell anyone Sam?" he asked gently, looking back at his little brother who looked so young against the stark white sheets, "You're smart, you should've known to tell someone about this."

Sam shrugged, "He knew what buttons to push I guess."

Dean could tell that he would get no further answer from Sam so he let the matter drop. He already had more than enough information, and once Sam took a nap he would be paying this Max person a little visit.

He'd show that fool what happened to those who hurt his little brother.

"So?" Sam prompted.

"Hm?"

"You and dad, I held up my part of the deal, so spill."

Dean chuckled and shook his head, "It's not that easy kiddo."

Sam cocked an eyebrow up, unimpressed.

"Hey, I'm still gonna tell you," Dean told him, smiling as he held his hands up, "Okay, so you want to know everything?"

"Everything," Sam confirmed with a nod.

"Okay, so when dad first dropped you off he told me we would come back."

"He lied," Sam interjected, a sour look on his face.

"Yeah, he lied," Dean agreed, "And so after every hunt I'd pester him about when we'd go to see you, if we could call, I'd even send letters if that's what it took."

"So why didn't you?"

"He-" Dean hesitated, "He told me you were better off, he said I'd be ruining your bright future if I interfered."

"And you believed him?"

"I didn't have anyone to tell me otherwise Sam," Dean pointed out, "For all I knew you were loving life here and I'd just bring up bad memories."

"So instead you took the easy road and didn't bother to come find me," Sam accused with a nod. Not sure whether to feel saddened by the news or angered.

"No, Sam," Dean sighed, "This is so messed up."

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"Look," Dean waited until he had all of Sam's attention, heart aching when he saw the turmoil bubbling beneath those hazel eyes, "The only reason I didn't come to find you sooner, the _only_ reason, was because I thought you would be happier. Then I realized that I could never be happy without my little Sammy so I said screw this and came to find you."

"But eight _years._ "

"I know Sam, and I swear, if I could erase the past eight years and do it all over I would," he vowed.

"I know you would Dean," Sam whispered, biting his lip.

"Which brings us back to why you never thought Max and his band of yahoos was a problem?"

Sam huffed, "They're just idiots Dean, I figured after a couple weeks they'd get tired and move on."

"But they didn't?"

"Not exactly."

"What buttons dd they push Sam? What'd they tell you?" Dean questioned, knowing that Sam was a fighter, that he wouldn't jut roll over for anyone who teased him.

"Doesn't matter."

Dean thankfully didn't push the matter any further. He'd go pester Zachary if he had to, since he doubted Sam would've been able to keep something like this a secret for so long.

Would he?

There was a soft knock on the door and Miranda poked her head in.

"Hey guys," she said, her lips widening into a smile.

"Hey," the Winchester's greeted in unison.

Miranda walked in carrying a shopping bag in one hand.

"I talked to your doctor, a couple more days that's exciting!" she said cheerfully as she set the bag at Sam's feet and started pulling things out.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, watching her curiously to see what she had brought.

She started by pulling out dark navy blue colored sweatshirt and tossing it to him, followed by a pair of grey sweatpants.

"I figured you'd be more comfortable in these," she explained, before reaching into the bag and pulling out the two photos Sam owned.

Dean's eyes widened, "Can I look at those?"

He waited until Sam gave him a nod of permission before gently taking them from Miranda's grasp.

"I didn't know what happened to these," he mumbled, tracing his mother's face gently with a finger.

Sam watched his older brother, "Dad left 'em with me," he said, wondering if that would be enough explanation, and knowing that even if it wasn't he didn't have any other explanation to give.

"Oh, that was...nice," Dean replied awkwardly as he set them carefully on the stand next to the bed.

Dean wiped a hand through his hair, vaguely wondering when the last time he'd taken a shower or slept in an actual bed had been.

As if reading his mind Miranda suggested, "Why don't you go run and take a shower Dean? I can hold down the fort for ya."

He glanced at Sam as if asking for permission to leave.

"Yeah go on, you're starting to smell," his younger brother teased.

Dean huffed with an amused grin before nodding, "Thanks."

"My pleasure," Miranda told him as he walked out the door, carefully closing it behind him.

He would go home to take a shower, but he had an errand to do first.

He hurried out of the hospital, determined to get his task done and grab some food, as well as a shower, as quickly as possible that way he'd be back with Sammy sooner.

He got inside of the impala, feeling himself relax slightly as he turned the key in the ignition and felt more than heard the familiar purr of the engine. He put the car in reverse before speeding out of the parking lot.

He ignored the speed limit knowing he had only a little amount of time left to reach his destination and actually succeed in his task.

He pulled into Sam's school's parking lot and cut the engine before swiftly climbing out and closing his door behind him. Already some kids were exiting the building, but not them, not yet. He quickened his pace, adrenaline starting to coarse through his veins.

He was going to show those fools what happened to those who messed with his little brother.

He marched into the school, earning curious glances from those he passed.

His eyes scanned each face, as he walked, looking for his prey.

There.

Two of the three where trying to corner a young girl, a freshman by the looks of it.

He tried to control the anger that overtook him at the sight, flashes of Sam on the ground surround by the punks making his vision almost turn red. It was monsters like these that were worse than the monsters he hunted. At least those he hunted had a reason, whether it was survival or they couldn't fight their nature. But these? Humans like this made him sick, they were evil simply because they _could be._ Because they thought that it gave them power.

Well he was going to strip them of that power once and for all.

Only problem-no witnesses.

He shifted his weight so that when he walked he used mainly the outside of his feet in an attempt to quiet his steps without slowly down too much. The number of students milling about in the hallway was slowly trickling away but there were still too many wide eyes and quick mouths for his liking.

His eyes caught sight of a sign to the boys bathroom just around the corner that the punks were trying to harass the girl in.

He snuck up behind them and grabbed their collars forcefully yanking them around in front of them, making sure to not allow them to regain total balance as he hurriedly shoved them into the bathroom.

He threw them to the tiled floor and glared down at them, the anger practically radiating off of his muscular form.

Dean smiled at them coldly, knowing that he had the upper hand.

"Remember me?"

The two kids looked at each other unimpressed and got to their feet.

"Should we?" one of them asked with a smirk.

Dean smiled again, "Perhaps not," with a lightning fast kick to the gut he sent the kid sprawling on the floor, "But you will."

Sam's eyes kept drifting anxiously to the clock every two minutes. He couldn't help it. His anxiety grew with each passing second. Dean had been gone for two hours. Two _hours,_ he remembered Dean had liked to take long showers but surely not that long.

Miranda put down a pair of aces on the bed sheet between them. Thankfully she'd thought to stick a deck of cards into her purse and she and Sam were starting their third game of goldfish after about an hour of various other card games that they knew.

Sam had shrugged into his sweatshirt but the sweatpants remained folded in the empty chair.

"I'm sure he just fell asleep or something Sam," she said, noticing his not so subtle show down with the clock and the way he was tapping his fingers like he usually did whenever nervous about something.

"Yeah," he agreed non-convincingly.

"Your turn," she told him, trying to distract him.

"Uhm," he glanced disinterestedly at his cards in his hand, "You have a queen?"

"No, go fish."

He drew from the deck and added yet another card to his hand before trying to be discreet about looking at the clock once more.

They played out the game.

Miranda won, although it was clear Sam's mind was elsewhere.

She stayed with Sam, talking about anything that came to mind, trying to offer him company and companionship in every way she knew how.

Eventually seven o'clock rolled around which meant visiting hours were over and still no Dean.

"I'm sure he's okay Sam," Miranda said, leaning down and giving Sam a hug before leaving.

Sam didn't make a verbal response. Inside his heart was breaking piece by piece. 'He left, he left, he left, he left,' whispered the voice in his head over and over again until it seemed like a fact. He huddled deeper into his sweatshirt that was at least one size to big for him, as if warding himself from the thought.

'He wouldn't come all this way just to leave, would he?' Sam wondered, 'Why would he go through that effort just to leave? Did dad call? Did _he_ convince Dean to leave me?'

A nurse came in as his thoughts spun around madly, growing deeper and darker by the second until he thought he wouldn't be able to breath. She made sure that he was settled for the night before turning off his lights and closing his door leaving him alone once again with his treacherous mind.

Sam was just drifting to sleep, his body finally succumbing to the tiredness no matter how heartbroken he felt, when he heard his door click open and his brother rushed to his side, forcefully shaking him awake.

Sam jerked and took in the sight of his brother. His older sibling's face pale, making his freckles stand out, and the dark stains on his knuckles-

"Is that blood?" he asked, horrified at the thought scared to find out who's blood it was.

Dean ignored the question and instead turned around and threw his sweat pants at him.

"Dean? What's going on you're scaring me."

Dean stilled slightly at Sam's tone, conflicted as to whether he should try and ease Sam's fears or get him to safety first. Eventually safety won. Sam could be pissed at him all he wanted, as long as he was alive to do so.

Dean's panicked gaze met Sam's confused one and his words only achieved more confusion for the younger, "We have to leave, _now!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you have the time please leave a comment and/or kudo. Thanks again!


	9. Flight to Safety

Sam shifted in the passenger seat of the impala. His brother had barely told him anything, hardly speaking more than a few words at a time and it was really starting to creep him out. The anxiety that was coming off of his brother in waves wasn't helping matters either.

He was in his sweats and sweatshirt now, as comfortable as he could be, though slightly light headed.

Dean was holding the steering wheel in a death like grip. His knuckles white under the dark stains, bones practically grinding together. His foot remained firmly situated on the gas pedal, never going less than ten above the speed limit.

Sam didn't want to think about whose blood that might be and Dean's actions were doing nothing to ease his growing concern.

Th tension slowly built between the two until Sam felt like he could practically tough it.

"Dean, please, tell me what's going on," Sam begged, "What happened?"

Dean lifted his foot slightly off the gas and sighed, knowing that he owed Sam some sort of explanation and unsure as to how he should start off.

"I went to see those kids that beat you up," he said tightly.

Sam's face paled, "Oh God, did you kill them? Tell me you-"

"I didn't kill them!" Dean stated firmly lowering his voice as he added, "I promise I didn't kill anyone."

"But the blood…"

"I hit one in the nose pretty good."

"With two fists?"

"More than once," Dean amended, "But I _didn't_ kill anyone, okay? You have to trust me on that."

Sam nodded, surprised that he didn't doubt Dean in the slightest about that fact but still confused as to why he had been taken out of the hospital and what had made his older brother look so scared.

"So why are we running?" Sam wondered.

Dean pursed his lips and sighed, "They weren't human."

"Who wasn't? Killian and his gang? That's not funny," Sam told him with a glare.

"No it's not," Dean agreed.

"Dean I've been with those people for years, they're jerks but I'm fairly certain that they're human."

"No, Sam, they're not, I made sure."

"How? Did you cut them?" Sam massaged his forehead with his fingers with the thought that he'd never be able to return to school now without people labeling him as the kid with the brother who sliced people with a silver knife.

"No Sam, I didn't cut anyone."

"Than how do you know?" Sam asked, inwardly feeling relieved at his response.

"They're demons Sam."

Sam snorted, "Demons? Come on-"

Dean chanced a quick glance Sam's way, penetrating him with his stare, "I'm not making any of this up Sam."

"You're insane."

"Demons Sam. Three of them and they all had one thing in common."

"What?"

"You."

"Me? You think I had something to do with this?" Sam asked incredulously.

"They were going after you Sam," Dean explained.

"And we're running because….?"

"I know somewhere safe where we can go, an old family friend."

"But… how do you know that they're demons? Isn't it like impossible to tell?"

Sam couldn't recall their father ever talking about demons. Werewolves and windigos sure thing, but demons? He figured that was stretching things, even for his family.

Dean smirked, "No, you can tell. If you say 'Christo' it usually causes them to flinch. Uh, holy water burns them if it makes contact with their skin too."

"And you have a habit of muttering Christo while you fight?" Sam asked him, disbelief about the whole matter clear in his tone.

While having to explain himself made Dean slightly irritated, he had never been the most patient human being, he understood where Sam was coming from. The kid had been out of the life for eight years, and even then Dean couldn't recall demons ever being a problem when they were younger.

"Of course not," Dean admonished, "But no matter what I did those kids weren't dropping and there had to be an explanation for it."

"So you just thought, 'hey, maybe it's demons?' Really Dean?"

"Sam-"

"What if it is demons? What if they're after me and they go for Miranda? Or Zachary? Or Thomas? Or-or-"

"Sam, no one is going to get hurt, okay?"

Sam didn't reply right away, his face looking as if he'd just eaten something sour.

"You okay Sam?" Dean asked half-expecting Sam to start yelling at him to turn the car around and already forming a counter-argument in his mind if it came to that.

"Oh no," Sam's face paled again and a cold sweat covered his body, his stomach lurched painfully, "Pull the car over."

"Dude I can't I'm going like seventy."

"If you don't want me to puke in the car pull over!" Sam argued clutching his midsection.

"Oh shit," Dean muttered, realization dawning on his as he drove the car to the shoulder and came to a screeching halt and praying that it was only an unwelcome bout of car-sickness.

Sam fiddled with the door handle, the uneasiness in his stomach growing with each passing second the anticipation of becoming sick making him even more nauseous. He nearly flopped out of the car once he got it open, crashing his knees hard against the concrete. But the pain didn't quite register as he knelt on the side of the road, waiting for the inevitable.

Then his supper from last night decided to make a reappearance. If he thought the hospital's food had been awful going down, it was nothing compared to the bile that he spat out of his mouth.

His stitches pulled in his sides as he heaved and suddenly strong hands were there holding him. One hand was giving comforting circles on his back as Dean tried to offer his support. When nothing came up and the dry heaves finished racketing his body Dean helped him lean back against the car. Always keeping some form of contact with his younger sibling to give what little support he could.

Dean crouched in front of Sammy, hoping against hope that this was just some infection the kid had caught somewhere, but already the voice in the back of his mind was whispering otherwise.

He pressed a hand against Sam's forehead and pulled it away with a grimace. Sam was burning up. He cursed himself for not checking or realizing earlier.

"Just a second kiddo," he told his little brother and with his heart pumping his lifted up Sam's sweatshirt.

Lining the stitches was skin colored bright red. And Dean knew.

An infection, no doubt about it.

"Shit."

"Sorry," Sam muttered, as if getting sick was his fault.

Dean brushed Sam's sweaty bangs off of his forehead with a small bittersweet smile. Because this kid. The freakin' kid was _his_ and even if they had their problems he knew that wouldn't change, the thought comforted him as he watched over Sam.

"Not you're fault squirt," Dean told him.

Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.

As much as he hated the idea of a sick Sam having to spend a few more hours in the car it couldn't be helped. Dean needed to get his brother somewhere safe as fast as he possibly could.

"Okay, uh, you still feeling nauseous at all?" he asked.

Sam contemplated the question then shook his head.

"Good, that's good," Dean told him, wondering just how much of this conversation Sam was actually processing at this point, "Okay..." Dean pursed his lips, before coming up with an idea, "How about we get you stretched out in back, okay? I can grab some blankets and things to make you comfortable, that sound good Sam?"

Sam nodded, looking pale and drained of any and all energy as he sagged against the impala. Nothing at all like he had looked during their quick escape from the hospital.

Dean shook his head as he stood, his knees popping when he straightened out. He moved quickly to the truck and pulled out the red fleece blanket he always kept back there and a plastic water bottle, with a second thought he grabbed a plastic bag with various wrappers and such in it and dumped the trash out before bringing it with him, just in case.

Sam hadn't moved an inch from his earlier position leaning against the car when Dean returned.

The oldest Winchester laid the supplies on the ground and opened the back door before crouching down and placing his palm on Sam's forehead. He muttered a curse under his breath, if anything the poor kid felt even hotter than when he'd first checked. Dean made a mental note to grab a thermometer at the next gas station they went to.

"Okay Sam, you need help getting up?"

Dean expected Sam to decline his offer of help and try to get up on his own, instead he received a weak nod. 'He must be feeling pretty shitty then,' he thought as he hooked his hands under Sam's armpits and helped to lift him up.

Sam groaned as he became vertical, feeling slightly lightheaded and dizzy. His grip on Dean's forearms tightened, as if Dean was his anchor.

"You good?" Dean asked, his worry spiking upwards as Sam's face paled even more as he stood.

Sam nodded, an obvious lie that they both chose to ignore for the time being.

Dean got Sam situated so that he was laying down across the backseat. Sam's freakishly long legs almost pressed against his chest in a fetal position so that he could fit.

An idea occurred to Dean and he shrugged out of his leather jacket and folded it into a bundle.

"Lift your head for just a sec Sammy," he instructed,

Sam did as he was told and when he laid back down on the makeshift pillow he let out a small content sigh.

Dean covered his brother with the blanket and placed the water bottle on the floor next to the plastic bag.

"Here's if you feel nauseous again, okay?" he asked pointing to the bag.

Sam nodded, eyelids already starting to slip closed.

"Okay then kiddo, try and get some rest. I'll wake you up if when we stop somewhere."

"Okay De'," Sam replied quietly.

Dean closed the door gently and hurried into the driver's seat.

He glanced in the rear view mirror and felt his lips twitch upwards. Sam was already knocked out, sleeping peacefully and looking like a child as the tension and lines of worry from his face were erased in sleep.

He started the car up again and resisted the urge to turn on some music as he pulled back onto the highway.

_Dean sighed as he slid into the wooden chair at the table, a hot mug of coffee in front of him._

_"I never should have left him," he murmured, kicking himself over and over again for his stupidity._

_"Dean," Bobby said softly, leaning against the counter, "You didn't know. Besides you were what? Eleven? Twelve at the most?"_

_"That's no excuse," Dean snapped._

_He shook his head and quickly apologized, "Sorry Bobby, I'm just worried. I mean, what if Sam wants nothing to do with me? Even if we find him what if he hates me after all these years?"_

_The worry and distress that was tearing Dean apart inside was evident on the young man's face._

_"He's your brother Dean, he'll always need you even if he doesn't realize it."_

_Some of the worry lifted off of Dean's shoulders, but the rest remained, weighing him down. They both knew that that worry wouldn't disappear until Dean found Sammy._

_"Why don't you go outside while I continue looking?"_

_"Bobby-"_

_"Go on ya idjit, I'll call if I find anything."_

_Knowing that arguing would be pointless Dean got up and grabbed his coffee before walking outside._

_Bobby sighed, hating to see the boy in pain. He remembered when he'd baby sit Sam and Dean. The two where practically joined at the hip, how John could ever think that separating them was a good idea remained a mystery to the old hunter. Dean certainly had never been the same, he was willing to bet that Sam hadn't been the same either._

_He moved to his living room and plopped down behind his desk to continue searching for Sam's whereabouts. They'd only started a day or so ago and already they were hot on the trail. With any luck-_

_Bobby grinned, clicking on the newspaper article that had turned up on the search engine._

_A smiling Sam was grinning in the photograph holding a first place trophy for a spelling bee contest. Bobby's grin faded slightly as he zoomed in on the picture. It was definitely Sam, even the caption said so, but the light that was so captivating in his eyes that Bobby remembered from when he was young was gone. As if someone had flipped a switch off._

_Bobby shook his head and dug further into anything he could find._

_Dean walked back into the house after pacing outside for all of about ten minutes._

_"Dean," Bobby called from his desk._

_Thinking he was going to be reprimanded and told to go work off his nerves on something useful...again, Dean sighed and walked in._

_Instead he got a much better surprise._

_"I found him."_

_With those three words Dean rushed forwards, wrote down the address and rushed to grab his things. Moving at speeds he didn't know he was capable of until that moment._

_He was ready to go in less than ten minutes._

_"You sure you don't want me to come with?" Bobby asked, knowing the answer but feeling he should offer once more just in case._

_Dean shook his head as he slid into his leather jacket, "Nah Bobby, this is between me and Sam."_

_"Well, just know that ya both have a bed and a place here if ya ever need it."_

_Dean nodded, feeling immensely grateful to this man who'd dropped everything in order to help him find Sam._

_"I know Bobby, thanks."_

Dean rubbed a hand down his face before checking in the rear view mirror once more to see how Sam was doing. He really regretted not having a thermometer or at least some pills to help his brother, but knew it couldn't be helped now, they'd just have to make do with what they had.

Sam shifted in the backseat but remained out for the count, something that Dean was extremely grateful for.

He pulled out his cellphone with a little difficulty and dialed a number he knew by heart.

He tapped his thumb on the steering wheel as it rang.

"Hey, Bobby? Yeah, yeah I found him," he listened to the response before asking, "Any chance we could take you up on that offer you gave us? We need a place to lay low."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you have the time, please leave a comment and/or kudo. Thanks again! :)


	10. Nightmares

`Sam walked down the darkened hallway of the school, not recognizing anything. The tiles on the floor where placed in a checkered pattern of rusty red colored squares and a cream colored squares. Pale lockers lined the left side of the hallway. The other wall were plain bricks and windows above.

All the lights in the building were turned off, the only light available coming from the outside.

"Dean?" he jumped as his voiced echoed around him, the nerves in the pit of his stomach threatening to boil over.

He quickened his pace.

"Dean?!" he called louder.

When he received no response he started running, sprinting down the hallway until he reached a set of doors. He slammed into them, pressing down the bar to open them but they wouldn't budge, he was trapped.

"Dean!" he called out, turning on his heel.

He started slamming open the classroom doors in a vain attempt at finding his brother.

Biology room?

Nope.

Spanish?

Nope.

Eight classrooms in all and each as empty as the last.

'He left me, he left, he left, he left,' all the air left Sam's lungs and he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating! The world was spinnning out of control and the only thing he knew for certain was that he was alone. Utterly and miserably alone.`

"Dean!" he screeched.

"Sam! Sam, come on, wake up damnit!"

Sam woke with a jerk, completely drenched in sweat and tears streaming down his face.

Dean's face was only a few inches from his own, concern etched in his features as he raked a hand through his short hair.

"You with me bro?" he asked.

Sam nodded, pushing himself up into a sitting position slowly.

Dean plopped next to him, feeling drained after the fright he'd just had to experience.

They had been driving for a good hour. Sam was quiet, fast asleep. Then Sam started thrashing, mumbling in his sleep.

No matter how loud Dean called, the kid wouldn't wake up.

Sam's thrashing got worse until Dean was scared that Sam would tear his stitches. Left with no other option and desperate to pull Sam out of whatever nightmare he was experiencing Dean pulled over and threw the backseat door open.

Which led to where they were now.

Sam was clearly still exhausted, leaning against Dean tiredly, but afraid of going back to sleep.

He could feel his older brother's questioning gaze and silently brought his hand up to grip the amulet he'd given his brother all those years ago.

"You left," he mumbled, talking about his dream.

He felt Dean shift and soon there was an arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him closer to Dean's side.

"I'm not going to leave you Sammy, not ever."

"But it was so realistic."

"Sam," Dean hooked a finger under Sam's chin and directed him so that his younger brother looked him in the eyes, "I'm not going to leave you, okay? I need you to believe that."

"I believe it," Sam replied.

"Repeat it Sam," Dean instructed

"You aren't leaving me," Sam said dutifully.

"Damn right," Dean agreed, turning so that he could wrap both arms around his brother.

He held Sam for a few more moments, reluctant to let him go even though they were on the run. Eventually though he had to pull away. He pressed a palm to Sam's forehead. He was still way too hot for his liking.

"Why don't you drink some water?" Dean suggested, reaching down to grab the bottle.

Sam looked as if he were about to argue, but then decided against it.

"You still feeling nauseous?"

Sam shrugged as he took a sip of water, "A little," he admitted.

"You let me know if anything changes, okay?"

Sam nodded.

"Get some rest kiddo we're still a couple hours out."

Dean slid out of the backseat and made sure Sam was re-situated before closing the door and moving back to the driver's seat. He pulled back onto the highway, his eyes searching for a nearby gas station or possible pharmacy.

Of course, they appeared to be in the middle of nowhere.

Dean glanced in the rear-view mirror every other minute, noting that Sam was curling up on himself and was very much awake.

He turned his attention back to the road.

"De'," Sam moaned.

Dean slowed down immediately and pulled back onto the shoulder, the sound of retching filling his ears.

"Crap," he muttered, slamming the door open and sprinting to the other side and ripping that door open.

Sam had somehow managed to contain everything into the plastic bag Dean'd given him.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean murmured, rubbing circles across Sam's back and wishing he could trade places with his brother, "It's okay, it'll feel better once it's out."

He took the plastic bag away from Sam as soon as he thought he was done, not wanting the smell or sight to make him sick again. He dumped it on the pavement outside the door.

There was no way they'd be able to make it another two hours at this pace, besides the fact that Sam was clearly getting worse and being stuck in a car probably isn't helping things.

"I don' think I can make another two hours Dean," Sam stated in an apologetic tone, as if reading his thoughts.

"Hey, no problemo dude, we'll just hole up in a hotel. It'll be just like old times," Dean tried to sound as upbeat and optimistic as he could.

Sam shook his head, "What about the demons?"

Dean shrugged, "We'll face that problem when we get there."

Sam shook his head again.

"I'm _not_ putting you in danger."

Dean had to smile a little at the dead seriousness in Sam's voice. Hope fluttered in his heart, if Sammy really cared that much, than their whole brotherhood couldn't be as lost as he previously thought, could it?

"Don't worry kiddo, I won't let anything happen to either of us, capiche?"

Sam pursed his lips, his cheeks flushed slightly with fever, and nodded.

"Okay Dean."

_"Sam? You okay?" Miranda asked, walking into the eight year old's bedroom, concern etched in her voice.  
_

_Sam was curled in on himself under the covers, looking tiny in comparison to the normal sized bed they'd had in the room before Sam had been left with them. Sam's arms were wrapped around his stomach, his face contorted into a look of pain._

_"Sam?" she asked again, hurrying to the bedside as her motherly instincts took over._

_She pressed a hand against his forehead and Sam sighed at the cool touch, moaning when she took it away._

_"I don' feel so good."_

_"Is it just your stomach Sam?" she asked, needing to know so that she could give him the appropriate medicine._

_Sam nodded._

_"Okay sweetheart, give me just a second and I'll go get a thermometer to take your temperature."_

_She walked out of the room and hurried to the bathroom at the end of the hallway, searching through the cabinets before she found the thermometer. She then rushed downstairs to grab some crackers, knowing that he had to eat at least a little something._

_She returned to his room quickly and placed the small plate of crackers on his nightstand before kneeling down beside Sam._

_"Okay Sam," she said as she shook the little thermometer out of the box and into her hand, "I need you to open your mouth for me and stick out your tongue."_

_He did as he was told and she placed it carefully in his mouth._

_"Okay you can close your mouth now buddy."_

_They both waited silently until they heard a beep._

_She took it out of his mouth, not even caring about the little bit of saliva still attached, her focus on the temperature. '99.7' 'Could be worse,' she thought grimly._

_"Do I have ta go ta school?" Sam whined, puppy dog eyes at full compacity._

_"No Sam, you get to stay home with me today," she replied with a tender smile._

_She stood up, "I brought some crackers for you to eat if you get hungry, okay?"_

_He nodded._

_She moved towards the door, knowing that she still had to put together two school lunches before the bus came. She stopped and turned._

_"Anything else I can get you Sam to make you feel better?"_

_She noted sadly that Sam's eyes were completely focused on the pictures on his nightstand. It'd only been two months since he'd been put under her care._

_"Please," he whispered, "I just want my brother."_

Sam huffed as the memory faded from his mind with a bittersweet smile as he lay stretched across the backseat. Miranda had always looked out for him. Thom too, in his own way. And he had gotten his wish...granted that it had come eight years later, but it had come true nonetheless.

He moaned as another wave of nausea swept through him, clutching his stomach and forcing himself to swallow. He was not going to be sick again. Not if he could help it.

"Hang in there Sammy," Dean told him, "I just saw a sign, we're five minutes out from the nearest hotel, 'k buddy?"

Sam nodded and turned so that he laid on his side. With this position he could see the back of Dean's head and his side profile. Plus, if he turned his head just a little more, he could bury it in Dean's jacket, muffle out all the noise, take away all the light, and smell gun powder, leather, the outdoors, and a mix of something that could only be explained as Dean.

He remained with his head not buried in the jacket however, preferring to watch Dean from this new view point. Wanting to see if there was anything different about his brother that he hadn't noticed before.

He could remember a few of the car rides with his family. There were so many and he'd been so young that the majority of them just smushed together in his mind, but a few stood out.

"Hey Dean?"

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, automatically taking his foot off of the gas in case he needed to pull over.

Sam chuckled and then grimaced when that didn't agree with his stomach, "Remember that trip we took when dad got us those legos?"

Dean chuckled and smiled at the fond memory, and relieved that the kid just wanted to talk.

"Yeah, I remember that. And we tried to build the cars, remember?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah but then you had to go and shove them in the air conditioning so dad had to take them all away!" Sam stated in mock annoyance.

Dean outright laughed, at that. An ache in his chest signifying how much he'd missed this. This companionship. Heck just being brothers with each other.

"Hey, it's not my fault they made the air shafts big enough to fit those things."

Sam chuckled a little, not caring if it made his stomach uncomfortable. Glad that the conversation was a good distraction from how his body felt.

"Dad was so mad..."Sam recalled, shaking his head.

"They're still in there you know," Dean told him.

Sam's eyebrows rose, "Really?"

"Yeah, wanna hear?" Dean waited until he saw Sam nod before he turned on the air conditioning. Sure enough, there was a rattling noise before it slowly disappeared.

Sam chuckled, as Dean turned it back off.

"I can't believe dad never fixed that."

"Well, he never fixed our initials on the back of the seat either." Dean pointed out.

Sam's eyes darted towards the back of the driver's seat where, sure enough, his initials and Dean's were still carved. He wondered how he managed to not notice that before.

The car slowed to a stop.

Sam glanced out the window near where his feet were and saw that they had made it to the hotel.

"I'm just going to check in, you stay there for just a moment."

Dean opened the driver's door and stepped out before closing it and locking the car.

Sam sighed and bit his lip, he grunted as another bout of nausea hit. Why couldn't his life ever be easy?

Dean returned after a couple minutes and drove the car across the lot, parking it in front of their room. He shut off the ignition and got out, moving over to Sam's side and opening his brother's door.

Sam pushed himself into a sitting position and immediately the world started spinning.

"Dean," he said, not trying to hide the slight worry in his tone.

"I got you," Dean promised, placing a steadying hand on Sam's shoulder, "It's a short walk to the room, I promise."

Dean helped him out of the car until Sam was standing next to him, his long legs shaking like a newborn colt's. Dean sincerely hoped that this was only due to the infection, and not some other medical problem that he didn't know about.

"It's okay Sammy," he said again, lacing an arm under Sam's shoulder and hooked it around his waist, taking most of his little brother's weight.

They hobbled into the hotel room, which, considering how many crappy ones Dean had been in over the years, it was pretty decent. All the lights worked, no weird stains on the carpet or walls, the beds looked freshly made, and no moldy smell as far as he could tell.

Even though the nearest bed would be less walking distance, and Sam was clearly burning off what little energy he had, Dean took him to the bed furthest from the door.

What could he say? Old habits died hard.

Sam flopped down on the bed with sigh of relief.

Dean gazed at him and shook his head fondly before exiting the room to go grab his supplies from the car.

He shuffled through the trunk, grabbing his duffle bag, and making a mental note of things he'd have to get for Sam. Some new clothes for one, although until they got those Sam could just wear some of his, definitely some medical supplies, he'd have to call Bobby to see if he had any suggestions for infections, and...? He furrowed his brow in thought as he slammed the trunk close and reentered the hotel room.

Dean made quick work of placing the salt lines in front of all the doors and windows.

He checked his watch. '4:09', too early to go out and get something to eat.

He grabbed the remote for the TV and was about to sprawl across his bed when an idea occurred to him. Instead of getting in his own bed Dean crawled onto Sam's, trying not to jostle the bed too much in an attempt not to wake him.

His movements woke Sam from the light doze he'd been in.

"De'?" Sam asked, slightly confused.

Dean settled himself against the headboard, "Just go to sleep kiddo, I'll be right here if you need anything."

Sam looked at him questioningly, "Whatever," he mumbled, too tired at the moment to get into it with his brother.

Dean smirked in triumph and flicked on the TV. Sam had always liked physical contact whenever he was ill, which was why he'd thought of the idea in the first place. Dean surfed through the channels, pretending not to notice Sam's slight shift closer to him, and being completely calm when Sam's head ended up on his thigh, while on the inside he was jumping with joy.

He carded his fingers through the kid's hair with a smile.

Some things never changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a kudo and or comment if you have the time! Thanks again!! :)


	11. Illness Thrives

Dean held Sammy supportively as he heaved into the toilet. He checked his watch. 1:02AM. Sam had been praying to the toilet god for about twenty minutes now.

He'd feel nauseous, throw up, feel a little better but still weak, and then it'd start all over again. A sickly cycle that was quickly draining Sam of both energy and what little hydration and nourishment his body knew that in no way was this healthy for his little brother.

He made a mental note to make Sam drink something before going back to bed, perhaps a couple crackers if he was up to it.

When Sammy leaned back against him Dean knew that he was done, at least for the time being.

The older Winchester skillfully flushed the toilet and laid him back against the wall.

"'m hot De'," Sam moaned.

Dean bit back the urge to reply, 'you wish' and instead settled for placing his hand against Sam's forehead again, letting it drop with a frown. Sam's temperature, if anything, was getting worse, not better.

He couldn't imagine how Sam could possibly be hot. He could feel the coolness of the tiles through his sweatpants and could see the slight shivers that racked Sam's body.

"I don't know kiddo," he replied, "Would rolling up the sleeves work?"

Sam shrugged helplessly and laid his head back with a tired sigh. And idea occurred to Dean, something he vaguely remembered his mother doing to him whenever he was sick.

He stood up with a slight grimace after kneeling on the floor for so long and grabbed a wash cloth. Dean placed the cloth under the faucet and got it damp then went back to his previous position by Sammy.

He swiped Sam's forehead with it and heard Sam sigh in relief, his head trying to follow the cloth after Dean had taken it off.

"Lean your head forward Sammy," he instructed, his voice as gentle as his hands as they helped lean Sam towards him slightly.

He draped the cool cloth on the back of Sam's neck and then let it stay there, resting Sam back against the wall.

"Thanks De'," Sam murmured, closing his eyes against the brightly lit bathroom.

Dean smiled and brushed some of the sweat soaked bangs off of Sam's forehead.

"No problemo."

Sam opened his eyes and pierced Dean with a stare that begged him to understand.

"No, _thank you_ , for everything. You always-" Sam was cut off as a fit off coughing racked through his body.

"Sam, you don't have to thank me," Dean told him in all seriousness once the coughs had subsided.

Sam shook his head fervently.

"You don't have to thank me and you never will," Dean promised him, silencing him with a pointed look.

Sam nodded slowly and Dean reached around him to reposition the cool cloth.

"You feeling up to laying back down in bed?" Dean asked.

"I don' want to be sick again," Sam stated softly.

"I know kiddo, but you need some rest, otherwise you won't get better."

Sam's eyes drooped warily and he nodded in consent arms automatically reaching out for his brother's help.

"On three, ready?" Dean waited until Sam nodded again to start counting down, "One, two, three! Come on, up we go," he grunted as he took the majority of his lanky brother's weight.

He managed to take one of Sam's arms and wrap it around his shoulders to provide a more balanced way to maneuver. Sam sucked in a breath as he became vertical. Legs shaking under the little weight he actually carried and face paling as his stomach rebelled against the movement.

"You good?" Dean asked, his face pinched in concern as he took in the changes of his little brother.

Sam closed his eyes in a valiant effort to overcome the battle against his stomach and nodded. His hand bunching up the t-shirt around Dean's shoulder rather uncomfortably, although Dean didn't utter a word of complaint, much to Sam's relief.

Black dots where popping up on the edges of Sam's vision and his brain felt slightly fuzzy. The only thing keeping him up on his feet was his big brother's vice like grip on him. Dean's calloused hand on his side and the gentle but firm grasp on his wrist were helpful anchors, keeping Sam rooted in consciousness.

He tightened his grip on Dean's t-shirt even more, a soft whimper escaping his lips as pain struck his stomach. It felt as if someone was tying it into knots and then pulling it tight in an agonizingly slowness that only increased the discomfort.

"I've got you buddy," Dean promised, making sure that he matched Sam's pace, one baby step at a time.

He left the bathroom door open behind them so that the light from the small room could light their way to the beds since he hadn't bothered to turn them on during their mad dash to the toilet.

Each step sent waves of pain through Sam, but besides the occasional whimper or groan, he remained silent, firmly biting down on the inside of his cheek. He didn't need Dean thinking he was any more of a wuss than he no doubt already did.

Not that Sam could blame him.

He felt heat rushed to his cheeks at the thought of last night. When he'd _cuddled_ with Dean. Cuddled. Last time he checked Winchesters were tough and independent, and they sure as heck didn't cuddle.

Dean half-carried and half-dragged Sam the rest of the short distance to Sam's bed. He pulled down the covers and slowly lowered Sam onto the mattress.

"Don't go to sleep just yet kiddo," he he told Sam, rather regretfully as he saw how eager the poor kid was to get some much needed rest.

Sam blinked his eyes a couple times and watched as Dean walked to the mini-fridge in their room and pull out a water bottle before returning to the side of his bed.

Dean smiled fondly when he noticed that Sam had already started to doze off once more and lightly tapped his younger brother's cheek.

"Come on Sammy," he whispered, when two bleary hazel eyes met his he helped Sam raise his head and slowly pressed the tip of the water bottle against Sam's lips.

He very gingerly tipped the water bottle up just enough for Sam to get some of the cool liquid before he leveled it out again, terrified of making Sam choke when he was already so weak.

When Sam put his hand on Dean's, Dean knew he'd had enough so he took the water away and placed it on the nightstand.

"Get some rest Sam," he told him, placing a palm on his brother's forehead and shaking his head when the skin was still burning hot, "What are we gonna do huh?" he asked to Sam's sleeping form, "What are we gonna do?"

Dean straightened up and strode over to the bathroom, clicking off the light before blindly making his way back into his own bed.

He huffed a sigh as he let his tired limbs relax on top of the covers. Letting his eyes drift shut as sleep pulled him under.

Dean woke with a jerk, eyes blinking rapidly to clear the bleariness from his vision.

On instinct his hand slid under the pillow for the knife he always placed there for safe keeping. He froze, listening and waiting, muscles tense as he tried to figure out what had woken him.

Some idiot was slamming their truck doors outside closed and yelling to someone who, form the sounds of it, where only two doors down from where they were situated.

Dean listened as they shouted about some fishing trip and groaned, letting go of the knife as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Dicks," he muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a breath when he heard the squeal of tires that could only be the truck driving out of the parking lot.

He glanced over at the other bed, afraid that the commotion might have woken his brother. However Sam remained secure in the peaceful folds of sleeps, blissfully ignorant of the world around him.

Dean reached out and pressed a palm to Sam's forehead and pulled away as he stood up.

Sam was still way to hot for his liking.

Dean rubbed a hand along his chin, feeling stubble scratch against his palm and decided to take a quick shower before heading out to grab some supplies. He stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to take on whatever tasks the day threw his way.

He pulled on a fresh set of clothes, shaved, brushed his teeth, and then exited the small room. Dean dumped his dirty clothes next to his duffle and searched through the small med-kit he owned for some Tylenol, wondering why he hadn't thought to give Sam some earlier.

He popped open the lid and shook two of the small pills into his hand and tossed the bottle back into the box. He set the pills on the nightstand between the two beds and placed the water bottle he'd opened last night there as well.

His green eyes scanned the room looking for some cheap hotel stationary that the rooms always seemed to have. He wasn't disappointed. On top of the table in the corner was a small notebook, they'd even gone as far as giving him a cheap black pen.

Dean scribbled a quick note for Sam-

'Went out for supplies. Be back soon, call if you need ANYTHING.

D.W.'

On second thought, he underlined the word 'anything' a couple times, in case Sam didn't get the hint when he'd just put the word in all caps. He propped the note up against the water bottle, pausing as he took one last look at his sleeping brother before he grabbed the keys to the impala and walked out of the room.

Dean stopped for a minute after closing the motel door and locking it. Letting his eyes adjust to the bright morning sun and allowing himself to breath in the crisp air.

He pulled himself out of his reverie and got into the impala without further delay, hoping to get back before Sam woke up to find him gone.

Finding a little pharmacy in whatever no name town they were in was actually easier than Dean expected. He pulled up in front of the store just as the worker inside flipped the 'Closed' sign to 'Open.'

"Ah," he sighed with relief, "There is a God and he loves me," he breathed as he got out and entered the little store.

He walked up and down the aisles with a basket slung over his arm.

"Excuse me sir, do you need help finding anything?" asked the worker, a slightly heavy set woman with flaming red hair and green rimmed glasses.

"No, no thanks, I think I'm good," Dean told her, pulling a thermometer off the shelf and dumping it into the basket.

"Well, if you need anything just give a call," she told him.

"Thank you..." he glanced at her name tag, "Sherrie."

She blushed slightly and bustled off to do something, but Dean had already returned his attention to the task at hand.

Thermometer. Check.

Dimetapp. Check.

Cough syrup. Check.

Crackers and loaf of bread...that one took a little long to find but he found it. Check.

On the back wall of the pharmacy was a long row of freezers filled with various drinks.

Dean walked over, lazily looking at what they offered before his eyes fell upon an orange carton.

He smiled and pulled open the door grabbing the orange juice carton before letting it shut on its own.

Positive that he had gotten all of the necessities he brought his items to the cash register up front.

Sherrie rang up the items one at a time and carefully placed them all in a paper bag.

"Will that be all for you today?" she asked politely.

"Hm? Oh, yes, yeah, thank you."

She told him the amount which he paid with cash, not wanting to use a credit card only to find out that he needed to come back for a refill or something else that he'd missed.

He grabbed the paper sack and walked back to the impala, driving as quickly as he dared back to the motel. He got out on the driver's side and bent back in to grab the bag before shutting the door with his foot and walking to the motel room.

He swiped the key in the lock and waited for the light to turn green. He opened the door.

"Heya-" he cut off his greeting when he realized that Sam was still asleep.

Dean shut the door quietly and strode over to the little table to set down the bag. His gaze fell upon the nightstand where the two pills, water, and not he'd left remained untouched. His brow furrowed as he checked the time. 10:45 am. Surely, even as sick as he was, Sam would've gotten up by now.

He shrugged and decided to wake him up himself to see if he could get some medicine and food into Sam.

"Sammy," he half sang as he walked to the bed were Sam rested, "Wakey, wakey little bro," he tapped Sam's shoulder, receiving no response.

He frowned, noticing the thin sheen of sweat on Sam's forehead. He stuck two fingers under Sam's chin, checking his pulse, finding one that was quick and erratic.

Not good.

"Sam!" he raised his voice slightly, panic starting to settle in, "Damn it, Sam wake up!" he shook his little brother's shoulders roughly, "Sam!"

He pulled away from the bed, hands on his head as he tried to figure out what to do.

Hospital was out of the question, although that was no doubt what Sam needed by this point. However he couldn't risk letting his little brother be taken from him again.

He bit his lip.

Bobby. Yeah, he'd call Bobby. Bobby would know what to do. Bobby always knew what to do.

He pulled out his cellphone.

"Dean?"

Dean wanted to sag in relief at the sound of the gruff hunter's voice.

"Bobby, Bobby I need help," once he started blabbering Dean couldn't seem to stop, "He got this infection and it's bad Bobby it's real bad, he's not waking up and I-"

"Dean," Bobby's voice interrupted him, "Just tell me what's going on okay? Let's start with where you are. What town ya in son?"

"Uh," Dean rushed to the nightstand and yanked open the drawer, pulling out a phone book.

"Stanton, Stanton Minnesota. We're at the Apple Tree Inn," Dean told him.

"Okay, I'm on my way now," as he said it Dean could hear Bobby moving through his house getting packed, "How long has Sam been out?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted, "He went to sleep around 1:30 maybe? And then I got up around nine thirty, maybe ten-ish, I just went to go grab supplies and I came back and now he-"

"Okay, okay," Bobby's calm voice once again interrupted the frantic older brother, "Check his temperature, can you do that for me?"

"Yeah, yeah, uh do you want me to call you back or...?"

"I'm staying on the line son, I'll be right here."

Dean felt relief flood through him once he heard that statement and made quick work of tearing the box to the thermometer open, glad he'd chosen the one that you just stuck in your ear.

He placed it in Sam's ear and waited until it beeped.

"It's 105 Bobby," Dean said in horror, knowing deep down that that was not a good number.

He heard Bobby curse on the other end, "Okay, you have a tub in your hotel room?"

"Yes-"

"Fill it with cold water, we need Sam's temperature to go down ASAP, you got me Dean?"

"I got you Bobby," Dean assured him, already rushing to the bathroom to get the water ready.

"Once the water's ready you're going to have to place Sam in it, but be careful, the last thing the kid needs is to get pneumonia when we're trying to help him."

"Yes sir," Dean agreed.

"Okay, I'm going to hang up now. You call if you need help Dean, otherwise I'll talk to you in about four hours."

"Thank you Bobby," Dean told the older hunter, not knowing what he'd do without him.

"Just go help your brother ya idjit."

With that the line went dead.

Dean shut off his phone and tested the water, drawing back with a hiss as his fingertips plunged into the frigid water. He reached over and shut the faucet off and then jogged into the room once more.

"You aren't going to leave me Sam," Dean stated as he lifted Sam's limp body and held it close, "I'm not going to let you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a kudo and or comment if you have the time! Thanks again!! :)


	12. Bath Time

Dean gently lifted Sam's sweatshirt off of his thin frame. Sam's chest was still colored with bruises, which actually seemed to be healing rather nicely, but that was nothing compared to the shiny pink skin that surround Sam's stitches.

Wait…

Stitches.

Water.

Dean groaned, not having come to the conclusion before.

There was a reason you weren't supposed to get stitches wet. It wasn't that the stitches would dissolve. He could deal with that and just restitch the kid up himself. No, it was something much worse.

Water carried different kinds of bacteria. Bacteria caused infections. Sam already had one infection, Dean couldn't imagine him getting another, or the one he currently had getting worse.

"Okay, uh, new plan then," he muttered, gently stripping off Sam's jeans as he pursed his lips.

Dean contemplated how to continue. Sam was burning up, without the ice bath there could be brain damage, however _with_ the ice bath he could become even sicker and they'd be forced to go to a hospital.

He sucked in a huge gulp of air, "Okay, let's try and compromise here. You like compromises, right Sammy?"

He knew Sam wouldn't reply, but somehow pretending to have a conversation with his brother helped to ease some of his nerves.

He reached up at the towel rack and grabbed a washcloth, praying that what he was about to do would work.

He pressed it as hard as he dared against Sam's stiches, earning an almost unperceivable groan from Sam.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry buddy," Dean quickly apologized, lifting Sam up and carefully placing him in the tub on his left side so that his right remained out of the water.

"Oh God don't let him drown, please don't let him drown," Dean begged as he saw Sam's head go under.

He quickly shifted his position so that one arm was hooked across Sam's chest to keep him sideways, his right hand snaking into the water to keep Sam's nose and mouth above the water but letting his forehead get damp, not even noticing the cool temperature of the water.

"Okay, I'm only going to dip you under for three seconds, okay Sammy? You can hold your breath for three seconds," Dean bit his lip as he gently lowered Sam's head into the water, immediately starting the count down in his head.

At the quickest possible second Dean lifted Sam's face out of the water, soon followed by the rest of the kid's lanky body. He didn't want the kid to get hypothermia on top of everything else.

"Let's get you dried off kid," he mumbled, grabbing another towel and wrapping it around Sam, "Ah crap," he cursed when he realized that Sam only had the one set of clothes.

"We'll worry about that in a second, sound good?" he asked as he made quick work of drying his brother off, planning on drying out Sam's mop of hair once they were finished.

He carried Sam into the room, covered in a new and dry soft towel before he sifted through his own duffle for some comfortable clothes for Sam to wear. He pulled out a comfy undershirt and a soft, warm flannel to wear over it, as well as a new set of sweatpants.

It took some time to pull Sam's seemingly lifeless arms through the sleeves, only because he was slightly out of practice in dressing his brother.

He laid a towel on the pillow before tucking Sam back into the bed. He used the corners of the towel to try and dry his hair. The wetness on Sam's locks making them curl at the edges.

_"Dean!" Sam pretend to whine after Dean had thrown a towel over his head._

_They had just finished Sam's nightly bath and had both needed a pick-me-up. Their father still wasn't home yet and he should've returned yesterday._

_The knowledge of what this could mean weighed Dean down, and therefore weighed Sam down. So Dean had decided to make bath time a little more interesting._

_"Better watch out Sam or I'm gonna get yah!" Dean yelled as he charged towards his little brother and picked up his squirming form._

_Dean threw Sam carefully onto the bed. Sam giggled brightly as he pushed the towel off of his face. His cheeks slightly red from excitement and his little head of curls slightly amiss._

_There was a knock on the door._

Dean jerked as he realized the knock was actually on the door and not just playing in his mind.

He glanced down at Sam's unconscious form before sliding off of the bed and creeping towards the door. He glanced through the peephole and the tension leaked from his body at the sight of the familiar figure.

He opened the door and stood aside to usher the man in.

"Hey Bobby."

"How's the kid?" Bobby asked as he entered.

"Nice to see you to," Dean muttered under his breath, "I just finished giving Sam his bath." He stated as he led the way to Sam's bed.

"Did that help his temp?" Bobby asked, taking in the sight of the sick youngest Winchester.

"I-uh, I didn't check that yet," he told him, feeling slightly foolish under Bobby's gaze.

But Bobby didn't utter a word of complaint, his voice strangely gentle as he took the lead, "That's okay son, let's check that and we'll go from there."

Dean nodded and hurried to fulfill the task. He placed the thermometer in Sam's ear and waited anxiously.

The device beeped in his hand. '100.6'

"Well, that's lower than what it was before," he said, trying to look on the bright side as he showed Bobby the numbers.

"How did you give him the bathe?"

"Funky," Dean replied, before explaining, "I couldn't completely submerge him since he still has stitches."

"Good call," Bobby told him, "That probably would have made this worse."

"So what now?"

Bobby stared thoughtfully at Sam before coming up with a plan, "We need to try and crack this fever…we might be able to sweat it out. But, then we run the risk of raising his temperature again."

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, a feeling of helplessness washing over him, "So what can we do?"

"We could keep him comfortable, put some icepacks under the armpits, a cool cloth on his head. But if that boy's temp spikes up again we won't have a choice. We'll have to take him to a hospital."

The older Winchester boy nodded, "Yeah, okay Bobby."

"I'm just gonna get some supplies from my truck," Bobby stated, walking out of the room.

"Here that Sam?" Dean asked, moving to the side of the bed and running a hand through Sam's still-damp curls, "Bobby's here, he's going to help you get better."

Bobby re-entered the room with his arms laden with goodies. Meaning, ice packs, blankets, cloths, towels, and hanging off his arm a bag full of medicine if the sounds of pills rolling in containers was anything to go by.

"Let's get this party started," Dean mumbled.

With a tenderness that was rarely shown by either hunter, they placed ice packs around Sam and got a damp cloth prepared to wipe his forehead with. Dean moved to cover Sam up with a blanket but Bobby's hand stilled him.

"We need to leave him uncovered," he informed Dean.

Dean still hesitated, wanting Sam to be as comfortable as he could, but trusting Bobby to know what was best.

"Now what?" he asked instead.

"Now we wait," Bobby replied, silently adding 'and pray that it's enough.'

Dean fumed, wanting to do _something_ for his little brother. Eventually he crawled back onto the bed and laid himself out alongside his sibling, grabbing the damp cloth and using it to dab Sam's forehead.

Bobby plopped down in one of the chairs situated by the table and pulled out a big leather bound book, knowing that they could be in for a long wait.

Dean was just starting to doze off, the excitement and anxiety of the day's events finally taking a toll on him, when he felt something stir beneath him.

His hand stopped moving.

"Sam?" he asked hopefully.

Bobby set down his book and stared, hoping against hope that their home remedies had worked.

Dean watched as Sam's nose twitched ever so slightly. His heart beat sped up, Sam was finally waking up.

"Come on Sammy," Dean encouraged, "Come on, open those eyes for me."

Bobby stood up and slowly walked over to the brothers wanting to see the miracle for himself.

Sam moaned and started to shift his legs, face scrunching up in discomfort.

"Come on Sammy," Dean repeated, "Open your eyes kiddo."

Slowly, one at a time Sam opened his eyes. First into slits. He groaned again and shut them.

"Nah, uh, uh, come on Sammy boy, Uncle Bobby's here. Aren't you gonna say hello?"

Bobby huffed and rolled his eyes at Dean's prodding.

Whether it was Dean's words, or merely his voice, but Sam opened his eyes, this time all the way. Blinking like an owl, confusion etched across his features.

"D'n?" his voice was slurred but Dean understood him all the same.

"Yeah kiddo, it's me," Dean said, grinning like a fool as he carded his fingers through Sam's hair, "Uncle Bobby's here to, want to say hello?"

"Hey," Sam rasped, eyes barely shifting in Bobby's direction before returning to his big brother, "Don' feel so well…"

Dean chuckled, "No kidding Sam. You're sick."

"'m tired," Sam agreed.

"Let me go get some medicine and water," Bobby offered, walking back to where he'd placed his supplies.

Dean nodded and watched Bobby walk away before starting to dab Sam's forehead once more.

Sam leaned into his touch and Dean had to smile fondly at those bright eyes that stared at him with such open trust.

Bobby returned with a bottle and a handkerchief as well as the other supplies he'd said he'd bring.

Dean looked at the bottle then Bobby questioningly.

"Hydrogen Peroxide," Bobby explained, "We need to clean the wound."

Dean flinched slightly, knowing that on an open wound that stuff would sting like nobody's business. Bobby unscrewed the bottle and got the tip of the handkerchief wet before looking to Dean, almost as if for permission.

Dean nodded and pulled up his old t-shirt, exposing Sam's stitches and the inflamed skin around it. Dean grimaced at the sight of puss starting to seep out of the area.

"Hold him," Bobby instructed, hating the fact the he had to be the one doing this, but knowing that it had to be done.

He pressed the peroxide to the inflamed area and immediately Sam reacted. His body jerking as he tried to get away from the stinging sensation.

"Hang on kiddo," Dean murmured holding Sam down as tightly as he dared, using one hand to rub circles on the kid's back, "It'll be over in a minute."

Dean could've just imagined it, but he swore he saw Sam relax slightly under his touch. The thought warmed his heart.

Eventually Bobby pulled away, deeming the area clean enough for now.

He handed Dean two small pills to give to Sam followed by a Gatorade.

"Sammy, come on Sammy, one last thing then you can sleep," Dean promised when he realized Sam's eyes had already started to droop close once more.

Dean helped Sam prop himself up a little so that he wouldn't choke.

He managed to get Sam to swallow the pills and drink a third of the Gatorade through a lot of gentle coaxing before his big brother instincts were finally satisfied and he allowed Bobby to take the drink away and put it back in the small refrigerator.

Sam snuggled into Dean's side, his body still unnaturally warm from fever; not that Dean cared. He let his body relax and wrapped his arms around his brother both drifting off into sleep.

Dean was woken sometime later by the sound of someone knocking on their door unrelentingly. He first assumed Bobby had locked himself out, before he realized Bobby was sitting in a chair at the table. The gruff hunter had set down his book and was staring at the door, both of them holding their breath to see if whoever the idiot was outside would eventually loose interest and go away.

However whoever was knocking remained persistent in their efforts.

Could the demons have caught up with them already?

His bleary green eyes immediately became alert as he glanced down at the sleeping Sam and then turned his attention to Bobby who was already making his way to the door.

The older hunter peered through the peephole.

"Ah hell," he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a kudo and/or review if you have the time! Thank you so much for reading!!!


	13. Unexpected Reunion

Dean knew exactly who it was even before the door was opened. Knew by the way Bobby seemed so hesitant when he stepped aside. Knew by the sound of those boots on the carpet.

His father.

Although he used that term lightly.

Dean's body went as rigid as a board as he saw the man enter their room. His eyes narrowing as he watched the oldest Winchester like a hawk. The only thing keeping him from shooting out of the bed was the warm body beside him.

John stopped in his traps as he took in his youngest child.

Eight years.

Eight years since he'd seen Sam.

The child – no, teenager, he corrected – hadn't changed much at all really. Not that he could tell at least. In sleep Sam still held that glow of innocence and purity that John had fought so hard to protect.

His eyes flicked to Dean and there was no doubt that he could see the raging fire of anger behind those green orbs. Nor did it miss his notice that Dean shifted slightly under his gaze, shielding Sam away from him.

He didn't trust him with Sam, that thought hurt, but there was nothing John could do about it at the moment. There were more important matters to discuss.

"Dean-"

"Dad, don't," Dean cut him off, his tone sharp and clipped, yet quiet so as not to wake his brother.

John had to bite his lip to keep some of his own anger at bay. Of all the times for Dean to go on an independent streak!

"Dean I-" John tried again.

"I don't. Want. To. Hear. It." Dean interrupted, making sure to enunciate each word so that there could be no confusion in his father's mind.

Sam scrunched his brow and squirmed a little, snuggling even further into Dean's side as if seeking comfort from his brother even in his unconscious state.

Dean held him, never the one to deny Sam anything if he could help it. A habit engrained in him from a young age.

"I know about the demons," John stated the words as quickly as he could before Dean could have a chance to cut him off.

Dean paused, torn in his decisions.

On the one hand he wanted nothing whatsoever to do with his father. He wanted him to leave as soon as he could. He wanted Sam to keep sleeping so that he didn't have to deal with whatever feelings their father's presence might bring up as well as getting over an infection.

On the other hand, their father might know more information than they did at this point and that information could be vital in Sam's safety. Dean internally cursed. It was a lose-lose situation.

However Sammy's safety came first. Always.

"What do you know," he asked softly, giving a silent acceptance that their father could stay…for now.

John breathed a sigh of relief. He opened his mouth to start his explanation but he was once again interrupted by his son. Only this time it wasn't Dean.

"D-dad?" blurry hazel eyes popped out from under Dean's chin, slightly glazed over from fever.

John's heart melted at the title that escaped his youngest's mouth, although he couldn't quite decipher the feelings behind the penetrating gaze.

Sam peered out from under his bangs, his mind was still foggy but he knew the figure at the foot of their bed.

He was stupid. So stupid to think this wouldn't happen. To give into the hope that there really wasn't another shoe to drop.

His heart rate picked up. He knew what this meant. He was going to take Dean away. His father was going to rip away his brother from him once more. Perhaps he'd even be generous and dump him back off at Miranda's.

Or worse.

His dad would stay. He'd let them pretend that they were one big happy family again, but he would just bide his time. Eventually Dean would see what a failure Sam was. How weak he truly was and then he'd beg their father to take him back and leave Sam. Dean wouldn't be able to stand the sight of him.

Either way it all ended the same.

Alone.

Sam was going to be alone again.

'He's going to leave. I'm going to be alone. So stupid. He's going to leave. I'm going to be alone.' The thoughts swirled around in Sam's head until he thought his skull might burst.

His chest rose and fell but no air entered his lungs.

Dean felt Sam's pulse quicken and the picked up pace of Sam's breathing pattern.

"Crap," he muttered, his own worry for the kid spiking as he hyperventilated.

"Sam-"

"Get out!" Dean shouted at John, glaring at him as he got out from the covers so that he could help _his_ kid. _His_ brother.

Of course John didn't listen to him and tried to come closer to the bed. Sam was shaking his head, closing his eyes as he drew his knees up to his chest and lay in a fetal position, if Dean didn't do something soon the kid was going to go into a full blown panic attack.

"Bobby some help here!" he nearly shouted as he placed two hands on the side of Sam's face.

He heard Bobby mutter something to John, heard John try to argue, but he didn't care. His whole world had narrowed down to the shaggy haired kid before him.

He heard the door slam shut moments later and didn't hear anyone walk back inside, so he could only conclude that they were now, finally, alone.

'Good,' he thought.

"Sammy," he called softly, tapping on Sam's cheek with a finger calloused from the triggers of countless guns, "Sammy, come on kiddo, come back to me," he tried softly. 'Just open those hazel eyes for me kid,' he begged silently. "Sam, come on Sammy. It's just you and me. Just you and me," he repeated, "I'm not going anywhere, it's just you and me."

Sam peeked one eye open, still only getting about half the amount of air with each desperate gulp as he should be getting.

"He's g-gone?"

Dean nodded, not needing him to elaborate on who 'he' was.

"He's gone," Dean promised.

"But…you…you're still…here?"

Dean felt as if he'd been stabbed at the confusion that bled into Sam's voice with that statement. Knowing that he couldn't blame anyone but himself for the mess that got them to this point in the first place.

He wished for the millionth time that he could go back in time and make their dad keep Sammy. Or that he'd stayed with the kid himself.

"I'm not leaving Sam," he told his brother, trying to put as much emphasis on 'not' as he was physically able, "Not for dad, not for a hunt, not for anything. Okay?"

Sam's chin wobbled slightly as he tried to hold back the flood of emotions that was crashing around inside of him, building with each passing second.

Dean pulled him into a hug and held him, albeit slightly tighter than necessary, but the closeness made Sam feel sheltered and protected.

"Ever?" he gasped.

"Ever," he promised solemnly, "I don't care if the world's ending kid, you're stuck with me."

Sam chuckled wetly, burying his face into Dean's t-shirt.

Dean continued to hold him until he felt that Sam had composed himself enough to discuss the next touchy subject. He pulled away slowly and made sure Sam was looking at him before he broached the subject.

"Sam, we need to talk about dad."

Sam's jaw clenched and Dean couldn't blame him for any feeling he might possess towards their dad.

"I know, I know, and if you want him to leave all you have to do is say the word and I'll kick him out."

Sam's eyes widened slightly upon hearing his brother's offer.

"You'd do that?"

"Yep, with a smile on my face. But…."

"But?"

"He said something about the demons trailing us."

Sam's lips thinned into a straight line.

"We can't be on the run forever and it's a miracle they haven't caught up with us yet," Dean was talking fast as he tried to get his say in, "Plus, I hate to say it, but the man might known more than we do on this."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek.

"Then we don't really have a choice do we?" he asked in a dejected tone.

"Choice? Of course we have a choice."

"Dean," Sam sighed, "You aren't getting killed because of me."

Dean shrugged and before he could reply Sam made his choice.

"We have to let him stay."

Dean nodded slowly, having predicted what his brother would choose.

"He could always bunk with Bobby in a different room," Dean suggested.

Sam's lips quirked upwards as he looked down at his hands, "I don't think that'll help."

"I'd sure sleep easier if he wasn't here," Dean stated.

Sam's head shyly came back up to meet his eyes, "Yeah?"

"Heck yeah," Dean replied, "If that's okay with you…"

He grinned as Sam's lips quirked upwards again, "Yeah Dean, I'm okay with that."

Dean smiled softly to himself, pleased that he could at least help Sam with this burden that he seemed to be carrying. He just wished he could take the load off of his brother's shoulders entirely.

"Let me go talk to him, okay?" Dean asked, searching Sam's eyes for any signs that something was still bothering him.

Sam nodded.

"I'll be right back," Dean stated, getting off the bed and walking over to the door of the room.

As soon as Dean stepped outside Bobby and John cut off whatever conversation they'd been carrying on.

He noted the look in Dean's eyes and took the silent cue to let the two older Winchesters figure this one out on their own. Instead he opted to go back into the room and check on the youngest of the trio.

He opened the door, remembering wistfully the first time that the Winchester brother's had been left in his care.

_Bobby had talked to John Winchester over the phone a couple times. Pastor Jim had apparently passed his number to the new hunter. Not that Bobby really cared._

_If he could help some newbie from getting themselves killed than he was more than willing._

_The man's story was like many he'd heard before, and what he'd experienced personally. He'd lost his wife to something supernatural and now sought revenge._

_Only he wasn't alone._

_Apparently the idiot somehow thought that dragging two kids around while hunting was a bright idea._

_Had Bobby known of the two little surprises form the start, he'd have persuaded the dolt to forget and move on, live a relatively normal life so that his kids could grow up happily._

_But no._

_He'd gotten a call a couple hours ago that John needed him to do something he'd never been asked to do before. Babysit._

_He was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard a car rumble into his driveway. His new pup, Rumsfeld, starting barking at the door._

_He got up and walked out of his study and into the kitchen. He quickly set up two baby-gates at the openings to his study and placed Rum in there so that he wouldn't get out or scare the two boys._

_He was utterly clueless about John's boys. He didn't know their names, ages, years in school, if they knew about what was out there, nothing and it was driving him insane._

_There was a knock on the door, driving Rum even crazier as he scratched at one of the gates in vain._

_Bobby opened the door._

_There stood a young man, shoulders hunched forward, eyes holding a darkness deep within. As if he'd witnessed a horror that no man could possibly conceive._

_"_ _John," Bobby nodded in greeting, stepping aside to let him in._

_Behind the man trailed a little shadow._

_A little boy, no more than eight carrying an even younger boy in his arms._

_"_ _This is Dean and Sam," John introduced, pointing at each according to their name, "Boys this is Mr. Singer."_

_"_ _Bobby, just call me Bobby," Bobby interjected. Dean gazed at him warily, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of spending an unknown amount of time in this unknown place, it was then that Bobby noticed the two little backpacks that Dean had, one slung over each shoulder._

_John glanced down at his boys, "Why don't you give Mr- Bobby and I a minute, 'kay Dean-o?"_

_Dean nodded, sparing Bobby one more glance before exiting the kitchen with his brother._

_"_ _How old are they?"_

_"_ _Too young," John replied sadly, "Dean's seven, Sammy's three."_

_Bobby nodded, before he could start calling John an idiot the weary father sighed._

_"_ _It's just a werewolf over the state line. It's been targeting small children so far…"John trailed off, sounding helpless._

_"_ _They'll be safe here," Bobby assured him._

_John nodded, "I'll call on my way back."_

_Bobby nodded and stood still while John walked over to the hallway to say goodbye._

_"_ _You know the rule Dean, watch out for Sammy."_

_"_ _I know Dad," Dean promised._

_"_ _Don't go Daddy," Sam begged, untangling himself from his brother to latch onto his father._

_John allowed himself a rare moment of weakness and hugged Sam tightly before returning him to his brother._

_"_ _I'll call."_

_He stated before straightening up and, with a final nod to Bobby left the house before he could convince himself otherwise, leaving Bobby with his new charges._

_"_ _Want to follow me to your bedroom?" Bobby asked._

_Dean nodded and slowly set his brother down, tactfully taking his brother's hand as soon as his feet touched the ground._

_The gruff hunter led the way to the staircase, conveniently passing by Rumsfeld's little cage._

_"_ _De' look," Sam whispered, just barely loud enough to hear._

_He tugged on his older brother's arm and pointed at the puppy whose tail was wagging like crazy at the sight of two new people._

_Dean gazed at the dog warily, obviously concerned about Sam going near it, but the hope in those shining hazel eyes made Bobby ask-_

_"_ _You wanna pet 'im?"_

_Sam's whole face lit up, but he turned to his brother, clearly asking permission before answering._

_"_ _I'll hold 'im for ya," Bobby added, hoping to put the elder sibling's nerves at ease._

_Dean sighed and glanced down at Sammy who was trying to use his newly found superpower. His puppy dog eyes._

_"_ _Okay," he relented, knowing he'd probably never be able to say no when Sam looked at him like that._

_Sam squeezed his hand briefly, a silent form of 'thank you'._

_Bobby reached over the gate and grabbed the squirming puppy before squatting down before John's boys._

_Sam tentatively reached forward and stroked Rum's back gently. Gaining a little confidence when the pup's response was wagging his tail he combed his chubby fingers through the puppy's fur again._

_Rum snuck his head up at the last second and managed to lick Sam's finger tips, making the toddler squeal and jump back._

_"_ _He licked me!" he stated, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why anything would do such a thing._

_"_ _He kissed you," Bobby said, not able to hide the smile from his face, "That means he loves you."_

_"_ _Oh," Sam seemed only momentarily confused before stating, "Well I love him too."_

Bobby smiled at the memory as he turned and closed the door behind him.

He glanced up to find Sam looking at him curiously, as if he knew he should know him but couldn't pin down why. The glossiness that had shone in his eyes only a day before seemed to have disappeared for the most part, although Bobby was sure that they'd still be dealing with the affects of the fever for at least a couple more days.

Bobby smiled and decided to help him out.

"Rumsfeld sure misses ya," he said.

Sam's eyes widened, "Uncle Bobby?"

"You were kinda out of it when we first met each other."

A slight blush formed on the boy's cheeks, "I'm-"

"There ain't nothin' to apologize for son," Bobby cut him off swiftly, "How you feeling?"

Sam shrugged, opening his mouth to answer when a loud shout was heard through the door.

"That is my son! And I will be damned-"

Bobby closed his eyes briefly and cursed the stubbornness of Winchesters before reopening his eyes to find that Sam's eyes had misted over.

"Sam?" he asked gently, moving over to sit on the other bed.

"I did that," Sam whispered with a nod towards the door.

"No, Sam-"

"I tore my family apart."

The broken tone Sam spoke with tore Bobby's heart to pieces. He just hoped that somewhere down the line John could find a way to piece together what little family he had left, before it left him for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for the continued support, thanks for reading!!


	14. Memories Last

Convincing their father to bunk in a different room had taken longer than Dean had anticipated. When he reentered his room Sam was already fast asleep once more.

Or at least pretending. Dean couldn't tell.

"Get things situated?" Bobby asked, once again sitting in his corner.

Dean nodded and decided to sit across form him, in the event that Sam was in fact actually sleeping.

"I suppose it would be too much to assume that you didn't hear parts of it?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer. He'd tried to drag his father away from the room before his father's temper made him say something stupid. But he knew he'd been too late.

Bobby's sigh and flick of the eyes towards his brother was all the confirmation he needed.

"What'd he hear?"

"Enough."

Bobby didn't bother to elaborate, he could already see the anguish simmering in the older brother's eyes.

Both boys shouldered too much guilt for their young ages, Bobby knew that sadly, he could do nothing to relieve that weight on their shoulders.

"I'm going to go get some coffee," he stated gruffly hearing his knees pop as he stood up.

"Jeez Bobby, you're getting old," Dean teased.

Bobby rolled his eyes and swatted at the young man with his hat as he made his way to the door.

Dean chuckled and watched Bobby exit before returning his attention towards his younger brother.

He smile slowly disappeared as he thought about the glance Bobby had thrown at Sam. It certainly didn't promise anything good.

He got up from the chair, glancing at the clock as he made his way to the bed Sammy was 'sleeping' in.

11:27.

He'd have to scrounge up something for lunch soon, perhaps a soup wouldn't be too much for Sam's stomach?

He shook his head, he had more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.

He jumped and plopped onto the bed next to Sam, the mattress bouncing as he made himself comfortable against the headboard.

"I know you aren't sleeping," he stated, poking Sam in the stomach playfully.

Sam jerked at his touch and raised his head to glare at Dean.

"You keep moving around an' I'm gonna throw up again," Sam grumbled.

"Come on, we both know that's not what's really bothering you pukey." Dean said with a playful smile.

"Leave me alone," Sam moaned, burying his face in the pillow.

"Come on kiddo," Dean urged, rubbing Sam's back in gentle circles, "I can't make it better if I don't know what's going on in that huge head of yours."

'I managed alright for eight years,' Sam thought to himself, but he remained silent.

"Huh kiddo?" Dean asked when he received no answer.

Sam stuck his head up, hair ruffled and messy from being in bed all day.

He stuck Dean with a challenging gaze.

"Why didn't you tell me it was that bad?" he demanded.

"That what was that bad?" Dean asked, gently brushing aside some of Sam's bangs.

"You and dad," Sam stated.

Dean sighed, "It's not always like that between us Sam. Dad was just frustrated about a lot of things."

"Like me?" the question was practically whispered but Dean heard it all the same.

"No Sam, he is not angry at you," he put as much conviction into the statement as he could muster. He changed the topic quickly before Sam's thoughts could wander any darker, "Hey, how's your side doing?"

Sam huffed, no doubt recognizing the change of topic for what it was but decided to humor his brother anyway.

"Okay."

"Let me see," Dean suggested, already tugging up Sam's shirt.

The area around the wound was still inflamed but he could no longer see any puss.

"We're gonna have to put more peroxide on there," he informed Sam regretfully.

Sam sighed but nodded.

"But, we can do it later," Dean decided, relishing the quick sight of dimples from Sam's soft smile, "You want to watch a movie? Or some TV?"

"Did he know anything?" Sam asked, "About the demons?"

Dean grin faltered slightly.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?!"

"Sam," Dean cut his brother off with a warning glance, "It's not like we've had much bonding time since he's gotten here."

"Right….I'm sorry," Sam said his eyes drifting downwards.

"Don't be," Dean quickly forgave, his cocky smile returned in full force, "You hungry?"

Sam shook his head.

"Thirsty?"

Another shake.

"Cold?"

Shake.

"Hot?"

Sam shook his head again.

"Alive?" Dean teased.

"Barely," Sam muttered but he didn't hide the grin that tugged at his lips.

Gosh how'd he'd missed this, just being with his brother. Teasing, poking one another until they laughed so hard that it hurt. Only, Sam realized, if they did that he'd probably end up puking again.

He shook his head and dismissed the thoughts.

"But seriously dude you gotta eat something," Dean said in his no-nonsense tone.

Sam made a face, but knew a lost cause when he saw one.

"Fine," he finally relented, making sure that his unhappiness about it bled into his tone.

Dean smiled and ruffled his head, chuckling outright when Sam swatted at him.

His boyish grin left his face quickly when he saw Sam wince form the action.

"You okay?"

"'m fine."

"Stiches?"

"And bruises and whatever other else there is."

Dean tried to think of a way to lighten the mood but nothing came to mind. His brother was feeling shitty, there was nothing particularly funny about that in his opinion.

He got up from the bed.

"Maybe we should do the peroxide first?" Dean suggested.

Sam shrugged helplessly and Dean decided to give him another dose of Tylenol with the soup.

He walked over to one of the bags on the counter and pulled out a soup can.

"Oh great," he muttered, starting to search around the tiny kitchen area.

"What?" Sam asked, watching his brother from his position on the bed.

Dean held up the can, "We don't have a pan."

Sam's lips quirked upwards and he tried to stifle a chuckle.

"Wow Dean," he teased.

"Well, we can always try this," Dean announced opening the microwave and setting the can inside.

"Not if it's aluminum!" Sam cried out just before Dean could punch in the time.

"What? Why not? It'll be fine."

"No Dean, wait! Zach tried it once and he nearly blew up the microwave!" Sam argued persistently.

Sam remembered the day very clearly.

He'd only been nine years old at the time…

_"_ _Okay so Miranda's out with Freckle Face and Thom is gonna be late for work so it's just you and me squirt," Zach told Sam, using the appropriate nicknames for both boys._

_Sam grinned up from his spot at the table, his short legs dangling from one of the chairs as he did his homework._

_"_ _Okay," he said, before quickly returning to his task._

_Zachary huffed fondly and searched through the kitchen cupboards for something to prepare for the two of them._

_Sam had been with them for a little over a year and Zach could see that the hope that shown in the kid's eyes was growing a little fainter with each passing day. He didn't want to see the emptiness that was left when Sam finally learned the truth._

_His family may not ever come back for him._

_They might. Zachary prayed to God that they did for Sam's sake, but he knew realistically that each day they didn't the chance that they would decreased._

_He pursed his lips at this family that he had no knowledge of. Well, besides the fact that Sam had an older brother named Dean._

_That was about all he knew about Sam. The brown haired kid had remained strangely tight lipped about his past._

_The teenager shrugged to himself and grabbed a can of soup before returning to the counter so that he could keep an eye on Sam._

_Not that he really expected Sam to do anything wrong. It was more for his own peace of mind._

_"_ _You know what? I don't feel like going through the effort of making this," Zach stated._

_Sam glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow, "You just have to put it in a pan…don't you?"_

_"_ _Yeah, but that's sooo much work," Zach complained with a playful smirk._

_Sam giggled a little and closed his workbook now intrigued._

_Zach placed the can in the microwave and closed the piece of equipment, punching in five minutes._

_Both of the watched, unsure of what would happen next, if anything. Of course, Zach had been told not to do exactly this on a couple occasions, but he'd never seen the harm in wanting to try it._

_Within fifteen seconds sparks starting flying in the microwave._

_Now he knew. God, what if it exploded?_

_Sam, make sure Sam was safe, he turned towards the child whose eyes were transfixed on the microwave. Widened as they watched._

_"_ _Get back Sam!" he yelled._

_"_ _Huh?"_

_"_ _Go outside I'll meet you there, alright buddy?"_

_"_ _Okay," Sam slid off of his seat, obviously confused and startled at his tone but ran out the front door nonetheless._

_Zachary opened the microwave and jumped backwards to avoid any random sparks._

_As quickly as it had started the sparks died off leaving the inside of the microwave blackened._

_Zach sagged against the counter, letting out a nervous laugh._

_"_ _My gosh, what happened?"_

_The blonde teenager looked up to see Sam holding onto a shocked looking Miranda._

_His grin faded, "I messed up."_

_Miranda followed his gaze that had shifted towards Sam._

_She put on a brave smile, "Well, the important thing is that no one got hurt," she stated, she pierced Zach with a look, "But don't you dare think you're off the hook that easily young man."_

Dean felt a pang of jealousy towards Zach as Sam glanced down. Obviously there was some inside joke or sentimental thought that had come to his little brother's mind.

'You did this,' the little voice whispered in the back of his mind, 'You have no one to blame but yourself.'

"Do you think they're okay?" Sam asked softly, as though he was afraid of what Dean's reaction might be towards the question.

Dean shoved aside his own feelings, and smiled confidently, "I know they are Sam."

Sam nodded and started picking at the sheet covering him, a nervous trait that Dean couldn't remember him having before.

"What do you say we go out to eat somewhere?" Dean suggested, needing a breather.

Sam looked at him with a calculating stare.

"Unless you don't think your stomach can handle that."

"No," Sam decided, "I'll be fine. You can go pick up some food and I'll see if there's anything on TV."

Dean hesitated, not wanting to leave Sam, especially if he was still feeling ill.

"I don't know…"he stated.

"Dean," Sam waited until he had his brother's attention, "I know you're not leaving me and I know you'll come back," he paused before adding, "Besides you being stir crazy isn't going to do either of us much good. I'm sure Bobby'll be back any minute."

Dean gave Sam a soft smile, how had he ever managed to leave this kid.

"Plus I'm sixteen, I think I can handle being alone for two minutes."

"Yeah right short stuff," Dean teased but he grabbed his jacket, "I _will_ be back Sam," he stated at the door.

"I know Dean."

The older brother nodded and walked outside. He strolled to the room he knew his father was holed up in and banged on the door.

It opened a few seconds later.

"I'm going to get Sam and I some food. I need you to watch out for him, but under no circumstance are you to enter our room or have any contact whatsoever, understood? He's not ready for that."

His father didn't look too thrilled about the instructions but he nodded, "Understood."

Dean nodded to himself and walked back to the impala. Hopping in and driving off to find a decent place that sold hot food.

Sam drifted back to sleep a few minutes after Dean had left. He woke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. His brow furrowed, did Dean forget the key?

He doubted it, Dean was vigilant if nothing else. Perhaps his hands were too full then.

He got out of bed and paused as a wave of vertigo hit him.

Another knock on the door.

He stumbled across the room, using various objects to help support his weight until he managed to get to the door.

He opened it and any words on the tip of his tongue blew away in the wind.

"Zach?" he asked, not othering to hide the shock of seeing the blonde man before him.

Zachary smiled, "Hiya Sammy."

Sam's blood ran cold as he met Zachary's eyes.

There wasn't the joyful and slightly impish look in them that was normally there.

They were cold eyes.

Dark eyes.

Unfeeling eyes.

Zach blinked.

Black eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Please leave a comment and/or kudo if you have the time, thanks for reading!! :)


	15. Lost

Dean sighed irritably as he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. The diner he'd found had taken longer than he thought to prepare the food and it seemed like he was hitting every red light in the tiny city or town or whatever it was. Suburb? He shrugged, it didn't really matter, he supposed. He reached down and flipped on the radio to give him something to listen to.

His stomach grumbled at the smell of the food in the backseat and he sighed as the light finally turned green.

He pushed the impala past the speed limits, wanting to get back to his baby brother as soon as possible. Something in his gut telling him that Sam needed him.

He pulled into the hotel parking lot after what felt like an eternity, anxious to see if his father had actually listened to him for once or if he and Sam- he shook his head, his father wouldn't be that stupid, would he? Is that his big brother instincts were screaming at him? Nothing looked out of the ordinary as he put the vehicle in park, but Dean knew appearances could be deceiving.

He grabbed the bag and got out of the impala, striding towards his room. He shoved a hand in his pocket to grab the key. Imagining what he would do to his father if he found out that the man had disobeyed his orders.

He pushed slightly against the nob and the door moved.

His brow furrowed and he pushed the unlocked door all the way open.

Strange. Super strange.

His big brother instincts where bouncing off the radar.

Dean walked into the room, noting that the lights were still on. Sam's bed was rumpled, and, Dean's stomach clenched, empty.

The light in the bathroom was on as well, the door closed.

'He's probably just inside,' he told himself.

He dropped the bag of food on the table and knocked on the bathroom door with his knuckles.

"Sam?"

No response.

He knocked again, harder, "Sammy?"

No response.

'Screw this,' he thought kicking open the door to find it empty.

He didn't remember another thought entering his mind. He was just moving.

'Find him, find Sammy, gone, gone, gone,' the words circulated through his mind. If this was the fear Sam had kept within himself for eight years than Dean didn't know how the kid was still sane.

His body froze before the doorway to the room.

There on the floor was something strange, a powder like substance.

He bent down, nerves turning to ice as he touched the powder with shaking fingers. He lifted it to his nose.

Sulfur.

Not gone then. Taken.

Anger boiled through his veins as he shot out of the room, nearly hitting an unsuspecting Bobby out the door and spilling the hunter's coffee over his outer jacket.

"Dean! What-"

"Where's my father?" Dean demanded, pinning Bobby with a glare.

"Last I saw he was in his room. Why-?"

Dean didn't bother to answer the question. He charged to his father's room and slammed on the door.

As soon as it opened accusations and cursing started pouring from Dean's mouth.

"What the hell were you doing?! I told you to watch him God damn it! One job dad and you blew it! Why the…"the question dangled in the air as Dean took in the sight of his father.

The older hunter had a nasty cut and a bump forming on his forehead. Dean knew from experience that a hit that hard to the temple could easily knock someone out.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, his tone was softer but John could read the silent accusation in his son's eyes.

Not that he wasn't feeling guilty as hell already. He ignored Dean's question and grabbed his son's shoulders staring him down as he asked, "What happened to Sam?"

"I, uh, I don't know," Dean admitted the weight of it all crashing down on his shoulders as he explained everything to his father, "I just got back and the room was unlocked. Sam wasn't there, and I…I found sulfur on the doorstep."

John muttered a curse under his breath. He closed his eyes for a second, willing himself to forget everything, his guilt, his failure, everything so that he could focus on the most important thing. What had always been rule number one. Protecting his youngest.

He noted Dean's distress and tried to ease some of his eldest's worries, "They won't kill him Dean," he assured, "They wouldn't have tracked him down and gone through so much effort just to waste him."

Dean's anger seemed to be reignited by his words, "Yeah, some comfort that is," he spat, "For all we know they'll starve him, or keep him locked up somewhere alone, and dark-"

"Dean!" John cut off his nervous ramblings, "I need you to focus, okay?" he knew he'd lost any respect that Dean might have had for him long ago so he tried a different card, "Sam needs you to focus, got it?"

Dean's chest rose as he gulped in a lungful of air, he nodded as he let it out slowly.

"Fine."

"Okay, let's wait for Bobby to get back, then we can start planning."

As if on cue Bobby walked up with a plastic baggie full of ice in one hand. Dean winced at the brown stain on the man's jacket.

"Now will you two idjits tell me just what the hell is going on?" the gruff hunter asked, clearly not pleased.

Dean couldn't blame him. On any other occasion he would've laughed at the accident but he couldn't remember what laughing felt like at the moment. There certainly wasn't any reason to in his eyes. There was nothing humorous about this situation.

Sam was gone.

Sammy, _his_ Sammy, was missing.

...

Sam woke with a jolt, his brother's name on the tip of his tongue. He blinked, trying to get the darkness out of his eyes. Then blinked again before he realized that it wasn't that he'd gone blind, it was just too dark to see.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall everything he could in order to explain his predicament.

He remembered opening the door to find Zach outside and his-

Sam shuddered, black eyes. Cold, dark black eyes.

Then he'd blacked out.

Sam bit his lip and raised a hand, only to find it tied to his other hand with a scratchy rope. He pushed himself up into a sitting position with a little difficulty and tried to pull his legs apart, testing. His ankles were also bound together by rope. The ground was cold concrete, the coolness seeping in through his worn clothing.

His heart rate picked up speed, thrumming in his ears and sounding obnoxiously loud in the silence that surrounded him.

"Oh God," Sam prayed under his breath as the reality that he might not make it through this alive bore down on him.

Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

'I should've told Dean I forgave him. I should've taken the chance to talk with my father.' What will Miranda think when they find his body… _if_ they find his body?

Sam pushed himself backwards until his back collided with a wall and kept close to it as he scooted to the left until he curled up in a corner. Offering some feeling of stability as his world was once again turned upside down. Clearly wherever he was wasn't a big place. That at least he knew.

He drew his knees up to his chest and laid his head on them.

"Please God," he prayed, chin wobbling. He felt a tear slide down his cheek, "Please don't let me die here."

He buried his face further into his knees and rocked himself back and forth.

'Dean, please, please find me,' he silently begged.

Sam's tears eventually died off. Crying wouldn't get him anywhere, and it certainly wouldn't help Dean find him.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm down. 'Think rationally,' he told himself. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. How could one think rationally when put into an irrational situation?

He pulled his wrists as far apart as he could, testing the give of the rope. It was unfortunately not much. Same with his feet.

Above him a rectangle of light appeared. Approximately four feet wide and three feet in width. Footsteps echoed as they walked across this newly found trap door.

How would Dean find a trap door? Sam started to panic again.

Another set of footsteps clanked across what Sam guessed to be a wooden floor. This person started talking to the first person, but their voices were muffled and indistinguishable other than one sounded female and the other male.

The voices abruptly stopped and both walked off, the light shutting off leaving Sam in complete darkness once again.

He curled into himself as far as he could, wishing that this was just a nightmare and he would wake up any second now. He knew it was naive, but he had to hold onto something.

He knew Dean would at least try to look for him, most likely Bobby as well. Would his father? Would his father even _try_? Or would this be further proof that Sam couldn't handle himself?

Sam's eyelids started drooping closed. He figured it must be the lingering effects of whatever Zach, no, whatever was possessing Zachary, had given him.

He couldn't fight whatever it was for very long. His body giving in to the exhaustion that suddenly weighed down his limbs.

Sam regained consciousness slowly.

"Sam? Sammy?" a voice called, poking his cheek rather rudely.

Sam opened his eyes, to find himself once more locked in the dark room under the trap door. If anything the darkness seemed even darker now.

He lifted his head, his neck sore from being stuck in the same position for however long he'd been out.

Someone to his right chuckled and he jerked away.

"About time Sammy boy," it taunted.

'It's _not_ Zachary,' Sam reminded himself, 'Not really.'

"You aren't Zach," Sam stated, unnerved that he couldn't see anything, or more importantly anyone.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," the demon stated, Sam could practically hear its smirk, "I'm Zach, new and improved."

"You aren't Zach," Sam repeated.

"What makes you say that?" it asked, amused at watching its prey flinch as it brushed a hand along Sam's arm.

"Well, for one, he wouldn't kidnap me," Sam spat back.

The demon chuckled, a cold, cruel chuckle using Zach's vocal chords, but unlike Zach's laugh in every other way. The sound made Sam cringe.

"You know, he's still in here," the demon purred, "I can read his thoughts…his memories. He always thought you were a burden. Sam the cry baby who can't get over the fact that he's alone. Sam the weakling who can't stand on his own two feet."

'Not Zach, not Zach,' Sam told himself over and over, as if the fact was a shield against the demon's words.

"He always had to take care of you," the demon continued, "Always, especially whenever he wanted to do something fun, he always had to watch out for _you_. No wonder your family dumped you-"

"Shut up!" Sam yelled, his voice surprisingly strong and echoing off the enclosed space.

The demon laughed again, "Hit a nerve Sammy boy?"

"Don't call me that."

"I think you and I are gonna get along just fine."

"Oh yeah? What's so special about me? I'm no different than anyone else." Sam demanded, wishing to every lucky star there was that this creature could leave him alone.

"You've always been different Sam," the demon said, the mocking tone dropping into a serious one, "You've always been special."

Sam couldn't have heard the demon right. Him? Special? Special to demons of all things? That had to be a bad thing. That had to be a terribly bad thing. Why him? Why couldn't he be normal just this once? If demons singled him out his must have done something terrible. Something evil.

"What did I do?" he whispered, his tone broken and dejected. Haunted.

"It's not what you've done. It's what you will do."

"I'm not doing anything for you," Sam argued.

"Not yet," the demon conceded, "But eventually you'll break. They always do."

"You can't make me."

"I can break you."

It wasn't the words themselves that froze Sam to the core, it was the sureness in the demon's tone. The absolute certainty. Like there wasn't a doubt that eventually Sam would go dark side.

One thing Sam knew for sure.

Dean couldn't come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Please leave a comment and/or kudo if you have the time, thanks for reading!! :)


	16. The Search Begins

The dark had never bothered Sam before. Even when his father would be out hunting, occasionally taking him and his brother with him only to leave Sam in the car, Sam'd never been bother by the night outside.

But this dark. This bottomless pit of black that caged him, this scared him more than anything else.

He never knew when the demons were gone, when they were coming, or if they were waiting in the darkness, watching him.

They fed him a piece of bread and a dixie cup of water every now and then. He didn't have his watch and there was no reliable way to tell the time. He could only assume they did this periodically, or at least on some sort of schedule.

The food was drugged, that much he knew. He always blacked out or felt fuzzy after eating it. He'd tried just drinking the water and hadn't had any problems.

Sam half-wished the demons would do _something_. Say something to him. If anything he'd prefer them tying him to a chair and beating him to a pulp. That at least he could understand. They didn't really need any motive for that, they would just be acting on their twisted demon instinct.

But they didn't. They didn't so much as lay a hand on him and that terrified Sam. Whenever he asked the demon said that they were waiting. Waiting for someone to arrive. He'd tried to pester them but that was all he was told.

Sam was on an island surround by a sea of unknowns and he had no knowledge of how to get off.

The demons might not have hurt him physically, but that didn't mean that their tongues weren't as sharp as knives. They told him things. So many things. Over and over until they actually sounded plausible to him.

Was he really the reason his mother died? The reason that his father and brother were now hunters? Why did they keep saying he was one of them? That he had evil in his soul? Did his father really know what had happened that night when he was six months old? If he was the reason for his mother's death than that would explain why his father hated him. Would at least explain why he'd left him. Did Dean know? How would Dean feel if he found out? What if their dad told him and that's why Dean wasn't here? What if, like they said, Dean wasn't looking for him?

Sometimes Sam wondered what the worst torture was. The demons and their words? Or the silence and his treacherous thoughts?

It'd been two day. _Two_ damn days since Sammy had disappeared. Stolen.

Dean hadn't slept a wink since then and it was obvious by the bags that hung under his eyes. None of the three older hunters had for that matter. They'd searched everywhere in this little town and hadn't found a trace. They'd asked locals. Looked at the hotel's surveillance footage, and had still come up empty handed.

Whoever had taken Sam had clearly gone thrown a lot of trouble to cover their tracks.

John had found one piece of information though. And when he'd reported it to Dean it nearly broke his heart. Miranda and Zach were missing. They'd disappeared from their house the same day that Dean and Sam had hightailed it out of there. When police had finally come around they found Thom and that other foster kid dead.

Dean dreaded giving the dark news to Sam. If the demons hadn't told him already. He knew Sam had always had a knack for attracting trouble, but couldn't the kid catch a break? Just this once?

"Dean," his father's voice pulled him out from his thoughts.

"Yeah?" Dean asked as he made his way over to the table where Bobby and his dad were crouched over maps of local areas.

Bobby uncapped a red marker and read some information he'd jotted down on his notepad before reaching up to the top right corner of the map.

"Some locals from here say that there's been some weird activity here," he drew a circle and then moved his hand to the bottom right corner, "Few others say there were some visitors here that acted weird," another circle, he moved his arm to the top left corner, "And apparently some locals here spotted some weird activity in an empty house on their block of the neighborhood."

Dean let the information sink in for a second before clapping his hands, "Great so we can each take one then."

"Like hell," Bobby retorted.

"It's no good if we go in guns blazing and get ourselves killed," John admonished.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Every second we waste here the demons have more chance to do God-knows-what to Sam. I say we each pick a location."

"What good will it do if we go with that plan and one of us ends up getting killed?" his father demanded.

Dean didn't seem fazed in the slightest at his dad's growing temper, "Well, at least the other two will know which house it is than."

"Damnit Dean," John growled, pinching the bridge of his nose wearily, "What is this, a suicide mission for you? What would Sam think if he found out you got yourself killed trying to rescue him?"

Whether it was lack of sleep, or the constant stress of not knowing if Sam was okay or not, John's comment made Dean snap.

All the anger, hurt, frustration, and fear came tumbling out.

"Oh so _now_ you care what Sam thinks?" he demanded raising an eyebrow.

"Here we go," he heard Bobby mumble, Dean ignored him, right now he had a beef to settle with his father.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Since when did you ever care what Sammy thought?" Dean asked.

"Don't you use that tone-"

"I'll use whatever God-damned tone I want to use, because out there somewhere Sammy is cold and alone and here you are sitting with your fuckin' thumb up your ass _again_!"

"You listen to me," John's vision was starting to gain a reddish tint, "I have only EVER done what I thought was best for my family!"

"Oh, so leaving an eight year old on a freakin' doorstep was 'what was best' for Sam?!" Dean mocked.

"Yes!" John yelled back, "But why would I explain it to you since you clearly know everything about being a father?!"

"I was more of a father to Sam than you ever were!" Dean hissed, green eyes glinting angrily, "You were _never_ there for anyone but YOURSELF!"

"I raised you-"

"TO BE A KILLER!"

"TO SAVE LIVES!"

"And what a bang up job you're doing at that when you can't even save your own son!" Dean'd overstepped the invisible line.

He knew it as soon as the words escaped his lips. Knew it from the hurt that soon gave way to rage in his father's eyes.

He didn't see the punch coming until it hit him square in the jaw. He head snapped back at the impact as he stumbled and crashed to the floor.

"Enough!" Bobby yelled, stepping between John and Dean before either Winchester could say or do anything else that they might regret.

John stood panting as the anger slowly seeped from his veins. His fist shook slightly and he let out a long exhale, hoping to calm himself back down.

Dean sat up slowly, wincing as he prodded at his jaw. Knowing that he'd have one hell of a bruise in an hour or two, perhaps earlier.

Part of him, the sensible part, knew that he'd deserved the hit. He'd poked and prodded his dad, goading him along, heck he'd _wanted_ his dad to feel angry and hurt. That's why he'd said what he had. What could he say? He played with a match and got burned for it.

But the other part. That part was still angry, and albeit, slightly shocked that his father had actually _hit_ him. It was easier, being angry with his dad, taking everything out on him, or it certainly beat the alternative. Keeping it all locked up inside while it inwardly tore him apart.

"We've lost enough time as it is without you two wasting more arguing about who's to blame here, got it?"

"Yeah Bobby," Dean sighed, experimentally opening and closing his jaw to double check that it still worked.

His dad certainly knew how to punch, he'd give the man that.

Bobby waited another second before John gave him a curt nod of consent. The hunter repositioned his worn ball cap and turned, reaching down to help the young hunter back to his feet.

Dean gratefully took the offered hand and got up.

"Might want to put some ice on that," John stated, eyeing him.

Dean glared, "I'm fine," he snapped.

John bit back the urge to rebuke his son for the continued attitude, after all, he had drilled and drilled it into his boys to respect their elders, but let it slide this once. They had bigger things to worry about besides manners.

"What's the most likely location?" John asked Bobby, focusing once more at the task at hand.

Bobby pointed to the circle he'd made in the top left corner, "From the sounds of it here. They say they've spotted at least one male and one female."

"Miranda and Zach," Dean thought out loud.

Bobby shrugged, "It's likely, although we don't know for sure."

'We don't know anything for sure,' Dean thought sourly, but wisely kept his thoughts to himself.

John didn't need any more convincing, if Bobby thought that that particular location was the most likely than he trusted him wholeheartedly.

"Okay let's head out. What vehicles are we taking?"

"I'd like to take my truck," Bobby replied, "I have salt guns, and plenty of paint for devil's traps."

"For what?" Dean asked.

Bobby looked at him incredulously, "Boy, you don't know what a devil's trap is?"

"We don't deal with demons much," John intervened.

"Well, you have a lot to learn than in a short amount of time."

"Okay, so your truck," Dean said, "And the truck or the impala?"

John considered the options for a second before nodding, "Impala has better mileage."

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to not get into it again with his father on the way there he said, "I'll ride with Bobby, help with the map."

Bobby and John exchanged glances but neither argued. Bobby grabbed all the maps together with one swoop of his arms and shoved them into Dean's unsuspecting arms.

"Here ya go then."

The truck ride was silent for the most part. Besides Dean's occasional grunt of, "Left here." Or, "Turn right."

Bobby sighed. The Winchesters had always been a tightly knit bunch. The fact that they had somehow, whether consciously or unconsciously, included him as a part of their family had been a miracle in and of itself he knew. But boy, did they have problems.

"You know, someday you're gonna have to forgive your daddy for what he did," he stated, breaking the silence.

He saw Dean stiffened in the corner of his eye but the boy didn't reply with anything other than, "Keep going straight."

"Dean," He glanced over, "You're hurting yourself holding a grudge against him."

Dean chuckled, "Yeah, well, he's not doing himself any favors either." Before Bobby could respond Dean continued, "How am I supposed to forgive him after what he did to Sammy?" Dean paused, recalling those first moments when he'd laid eyes on his brother after eight long years. "You didn't see 'im Bobby. He was so lost and hurt, I mean he tried to play it off, tried to push me away, but I think….I think deep down he was just scared of being hurt again. Do you have any idea what it feels like to try and make something up to your brother but he won't even listen because he thinks you'll just leave him? To know that whatever trust or love he had for you was completely gone?"

"Sam loves you Dean," Bobby argued, "And sure he's scared, why shouldn't he be? But he's probably more terrified of your daddy and you being pissed at your father isn't going to help him get over that."

When Dean just shook his head and remained silent Bobby tried to approach the problem differently.

"Remember you used to tell me about how you wanted Sam to come back so that you, your brother, and your father could be a family again? How are ya gonna be a family if you won't even give your father a second chance?"

"My father gave up the chance of us being a family a long time ago," Dean told him, a coldness entering his tone, "Take a left in the next street. We're almost there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed! Please leave a comment and/or kudo if you have the time, thanks for reading!! :)


	17. The Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so, so sorry for such a late update, there really is no excuse. This story is technically finished, so I'm hoping to have it completely updated on here by the end of the week.

Sam was alone again and his thoughts were blissfully silent at the moment. His eyelids were just starting to droop shut when he heard a door slamming open.

"Sammy!"

He knew the voice.

Could it…could it really be…?

"Sam?"

"Dean!" he screamed, his vocal cords protesting the call but he didn't care. His big brother was here, everything was going to be alright now, "Dean! Down here!"

The light to the living room flicked on and Sam could hear the sound of Dean's boots moving across the wooden floor.

He wasn't going to find him, he was going to walk right over him, Sam realized with a start.

"Dean! Trap door! There's a trap door!"

Sam tried to get to his feet, but the rope around his wrists and ankles and the sudden pain in his side prohibited him from getting very far.

He heard Dean start tapping the floor with his shoes, no doubt trying to listen for any indication of where the trap door is.

Sam waited and listened, holding his breath. Wanting to shout and tell his brother where he was, but not wanting to shout again and chance getting Dean in trouble.

Dean was getting closer.

Sam heard something move above him and then blinding light poured down on him. Dean's face peered from the edge, a cocky grin in place.

"Hiya Sammy," he said, "I think it's high time you left this place, don't you?"

Sam nodded fervently and couldn't contain the relieved giggle that escaped his mouth at the sight of his older brother. 'Dean's here, everything's gonna be alright,' a little voice whispered in the back of his mind, as if an echo from the past. From years spent believing that his brother was some sort of superhero who could right every wrong in the world around them.

"Dean!" Sam heard Bobby's voice shout from somewhere else in the house.

He watched helplessly as his brother was flung backwards and out of sight by an invisible force.

"No!" he cried out as the trap door was shut, leaving him clueless as to what was going on above him.

He heard a crash and the sound of something shattering and could only hope it wasn't Dean. But what if Dean hurt Zachary? He wouldn't…his brother wouldn't kill Zachary…would he? Surely Dean would realize that there had to be another way to save him, right?

If it came down to me, who would I choose? He wondered in the dark.

"Take that you son of a-" Dean's words were cut off and Sam could only assume that whatever he had thought would work hadn't.

'Oh God please…'Sam begged, tugging uselessly at his bonds, 'I can't lose either of them. I can't be alone again.'

Dean winced as he pressed a hand to his bleeding lip. The three of them had been doing fine before this second demon showed up.

Dean's blood had run cold when he'd realized who they were. Miranda and Zachary. He could only imagine what torture that must've been for Sam to have the people who'd loved and cared for him for the past eight years suddenly being the ones who ended up hurting him.

'Stick to the plan, remember the plan and stick to the plan,' Dean told himself, recalling everything Bobby had told him in the truck before entering the house.

_"_ _Okay, they'll no doubt be expecting us," Bobby stated, talking into his phone that'd been placed on speaker so that John could hear as well, "So going in guns blazing isn't going to do more than get us or Sam killed, or both."_

_"_ _We need to keep one of these demons alive," John added, "We have to find out why they targeted Sam and if we should be expecting more."_

_"_ _Okay…" Bobby thought a moment, "John you and I will focus on catching one. Dean you just worry about getting your brothe rout of there."_

_Dean nodded, knowing that he wouldn't have had it any other way. Sammy came first, before anything._

_"_ _Here's what we're going to do…"_

Zachary smirked down at him and slowly made his way towards the fallen Winchester.

"What's the matter Dean?" he mocked as he drew closer, "Gotta-"

Dean lashed out with a spray of holy water making Zach hiss and jump back. His skin steaming wherever water had made contact with skin.

"What's the matter Zach?" Dean asked, getting to his feet, "But then, you aren't really Zach are you?"

The demon smiled coyly and blinked, its eyes turning black.

Bobby was in the other room grappling with the other demon, Dean had lost sight of them but could hear an occasional crash of something breaking.

'If we keep this up one of the neighbors will be calling the police,' he thought with an inward groan. He respected the officers of the law, he really did they did a magnificent job with their work, but boy could they get in the way of a hunt sometimes.

"Where's your daddy boy?" Zach asked, starting to walk in a smooth circle, Dean mimicked his movements, crouching low in a defensive position.

"How should I know?" Dean questioned with a shrug, "My father and I haven't exactly seen eyes to eye recently." Trying to play the part.

The demon raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. With a flick of its wrist Dean went crashing back into the wall. His head slammed against the plaster and he crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap. His limbs sprawled across the floor like a limp rag doll.

He woke to his father poking him sharply in the cheek. He blinked his eyes blearily, trying to focus.

"Get Sammy and take him outside as fast as you can Dean!" his father ordered, helping his oldest to his feet

Dean's legs buckled slightly under his weight but his brain seemed to be catching up fairly fast. He definitely had a slight concussion, but he'd had worse before. Besides, there where more important matters to deal with at the moment.

"You got one?" he asked.

His father nodded the affirmative, "But we don't know where the other one is and we need Sam out of here in case it gets back."

Dean nodded and all but sprinted to the trap door. He yanked it open with a slight grunt as his father went off to do God-knows-what, most likely to lay down protective symbols and salt lines if his last statement had been anything to go off of. Perhaps a reload of holy water and salt rounds.

Sam was curled up in the corner, much like he had been when Dean had first seen him, although he looked slightly paler in color. He squinted his eyes at the sudden onslaught of bright light, trying to adjust after days n the dark.

He climbed carefully down the ladder, pushing aside all the bumps and bruises from his demon encounter and focusing solely on the fact that at the moment his brother needed him.

"Dean are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?" Sam bombarded his brother with question after question as soon as he saw his brother descending slower than what he normally would have done.

Dean hopped off the ladder, "I'm okay Sammy," he promised, squatting beside his brother. It wasn't a complete lie. He did feel a hundred times better now that he was back where he should've been all along. Side by side with his brother.

He felt rage cut through him at the sight of the raw skin, red and chafed beneath the ropes that bound Sam's wrists, and with a second glance, his ankles as well, although thankfully his ankles had been protected by socks.

"Let's get these off of you," he muttered, deft fingers already getting to work on the complicated knots.

"Dean," Sam cried as soon as his wrists were free, wrapping them around Dean tightly and gripping onto his brother for all he was worth.

Dean hugged Sam back just as fiercely, holding his little brother and trying to help mend whatever wounds the demons had inflicted upon him.

"I knew you'd come," Sam said, his voice thick with emotion. His hot breath ghosting against Dean's ear.

"That's my job right?" Dean asked, pulling away so that he could undo the rope binding Sam's ankles together, "Looking out for my kid brother."

He threw the rope away as soon as he was finished and stood up, offering a hand to Sam.

Sam took it gratefully and got to his feet with slight difficulty. His legs sore and weak from the long hours of sitting in the same position.

Dean turned to lead the way to the ladder when he felt a hand press gently against the bump on the back of his head.

He hissed and ducked away.

"You _are_ hurt," Sam stated, giving him a glare as if to challenge Dean to deny that fact.

"It's just a scratch."

"There's a bump!"

Dean held up both hands in surrender, "Okay, it's a little more than a scratch, okay? But I promise, I'll let you housewife after we get out of here, got it?"

"You better," Sam mumbled, following Dean up the ladder.

Dean helped Sam up off the last rung. A slight wave of dizziness attacking him once he straightened up. Yep, definitely a concussion.

Sam looped an arm around Dean's waist, as if somehow sensing that his older brother needed help. Dean accepted the gesture, telling himself that it was more for Sam's benefit than his own. Only after a few steps he was no longer sure who supported who. Perhaps they were both holding each other up in their own way.

"Going somewhere Sammy?"

Sam's head snapped to the side where the female demon had appeared.

Miranda.

Sam froze. He'd only encountered Zach, sure he'd known that there was more than one…but Miranda? What about Thom? What about-

"Go, go, go!" Dean ordered, trying to get his brother to start moving.

Miranda flicked her wrist and sent them both flying into a wall. The Winchester brother's gasped as the impact jarred both their injuries.

Miranda strolled towards them leisurely, pulling a knife out the waistband in her jeans and swirling it about. It was evident that she'd been in a fight. Her clothes were slightly torn and there was a long cut reaching from her forehead to her jaw, but none of these seemed to bother her in the slightest.

She stopped in front of Sam and traced his jaw with the tip of the blade. The cool metal making Sam shiver.

John came barreling into Sam's point of view, as if from thin air, splashing holy water on the demon.

Miranda jerked away, slicing Sam's jaw in the process.

"Get away from my sons!" Jon yelled beginning the exorcism Bobby had taught them, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus-"

The demon just threw back her head and laughed. Without any prior warning she turned the blade of the knife so that it pointed to her and stabbed herself in the stomach.

Sam jerked at the sight, feeling sick as he watched helplessly.

She continued to smile as a flower of red bloomed on her abdomen, "Until we meet again," she said, opening her mouth. A cloud of black gushed out and flew through one of the windows, shattering it in the process.

Sam and Dean fell to the floor.

"Are you okay?" John asked, falling to his knees in front of his youngest and inspecting him for any injuries, fingers gently probing the cut.

Sam's hazel eyes were wide with shock and John could feel him trembling under his touch. He knew it was more than just the cut on his chin that was affecting his youngest, and he would've given anything that it had never come to this point.

"She-she's gone," Sam whispered, unable to draw his eyes away from the body.

John followed his eyes and cursed inwardly.

He pulled Sam to his feet and carefully placed himself between Sam and Miranda, shielding him from the sight.

"Dean, take Sam back to the motel room, I'll meet you two there."

Dean nodded, getting to his feet and grabbed Sam's wrist, pulling him along. He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and held him close as they left the house. Making sure Sam didn't look back.

"Let's get you back the motel kiddo," he said gently, guiding Sam towards their father's truck and noticing that Bobby's vehicle was nowhere in sight. He kept up a gentle commentary the whole way there, trying to distract Sam. "Okay, easy now, in the passenger seat, step up, there you go."

Sam followed Dean's words numbly. Feeling oddly unattached. Like his chain that connected him to the earth had somehow become disconnected. He'd been told many times that a hunter's life usually meant losing loved ones, but up until now he hadn't experienced what those words meant.

Somewhere in the cold house lied the woman who'd sacrificed everything for him.

A year ago all he was able to see was what he didn't have. He'd have given anything to be exactly where he was, at his brother's side.

Now he realized that he'd had everything the whole time. Miranda had held him and cared for him as lovingly as Dean ever had.

As the truck drove away. Eating up the road a mile at a time, separating Sam from the only mother he'd ever known, Sam felt as if a part of himself was being left behind as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Sorry again for a late update. Please, please, please, leave a comment or a kudo if you enjoyed it. Thanks again!


	18. Repercussions

"Dean, I'm okay," Sam insisted as he sat on the edge of the bed furthest from the door.

Dean rolled his eyes and continued searching Sam for any other signs of any physical abuse.

Besides the nick on his chin, which was already scabbing over nicely, and the way his ribs seemed more prominent than before, Sam did appear to be okay. The bruises from almost a week ago were nearly completely healed.

That almost worried Dean more. Physical things he could deal with and make better with just a band-aid and maybe a few stitches. But emotional? Those scars tended to run much deeper than any knife wound ever could.

He wiped the infected skin around Sam's stiches, relieved that the infection itself hadn't seemed to have gotten any worse during the duration of Sam's unwanted stay with the demons. However, it hadn't gotten any better either.

Sam hissed as the cotton ball with the peroxide came in contact with the tender skin and relaxed slightly as Dean pulled it away and wrapped ace wrap around his midsection in order to hold a band-aid in place.

Dean handed Sam one of his old hoodies to put on and then handed Sam a pair of his old sweat pants as well.

Sam shook his head.

"Not until I look at your bump," his younger brother stated determinedly.

Dean sighed, too tired to really come up with a good argument for that. After all, he had promised the kid that he'd let him check him over once they got back to the hotel.

Sam stood up and they traded places. He gently probed the area around the back of Dean's skull.

"It uh, it's bleeding," he said, feeling uncertainty rear its head as he realized that he was extremely out of practice in giving even the most basic forms of first aide.

Dean, sensing Sam's slight distress started giving him instructions.

"Okay, it's cool bro, just go get a wash cloth from the bathroom and we'll clean up the blood and see if it needs stitches."

When Sam didn't move Dean turned to get a good look at his brother.

"What's wrong Sammy?"

Sam physically flinched at the nickname but didn't correct him, instead saying in a shaking voice, "Dean, if you need stitches, I don't know if I can do it."

"Sure you can," Dean told him, with such trust that it felt like a punch in the gut to Sam. Sam was _sure_ that he actually couldn't.

"Dean, I don't remember how," he said, searching his brother's eyes for any sign of frustration, anything that might trigger that what the demon had said had been true after all.

Instead Dean just took Sam's hands in his own. Only Sam was able to bring this side out of him, even with an eight year gap between them somehow his brother still managed to make his heart melt.

"One step at a time, okay?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, "So wash cloth?"

Dean nodded, "Right."

He watched as Sam walked to the bathroom, noting the tenseness in his brother's step. 'This is good for him,' he told himself, 'It'll help take his mind off of what happened.' He also noted how Sam left the door opened and positioned himself so that he could see his brother with a slight turn of his head at all times. He didn't say anything about though once Sam returned and started cleaning his sort cropped hair with gentle wipes.

Sam would pause whenever Dean made any indication that it hurt and must've muttered at least a hundred apologies by the time he'd finished.

"Sam, it's okay," Dean assured him.

Sam ignored his statement, thinking that this was very much not okay. Everything happened because of him. His mother's death, Dean getting hurt, Miranda….he shut his eyes and tossed the crimson stained cloth onto the nightstand.

"Finished," he announced tightly, trying to push the image from his mind.

"Okay, does it look deep?" Dean asked.

"I-I can't tell," Sam replied, "It's still bleeding…oh gosh, do you think I need to stitch it up."

"Only if you're comfortable Sammy," Dean told him, "You don't have to-"

"Do you _need_ stiches?"

Dean sighed, and decided to be honest, "I think so bud."

"Okay, uh…just tell me how to do this then."

It took a few tries, but Dean remained patient, telling Sam exactly how to start and how he should place the needle. How to thread it through, he bit his lip to keep the gasps of pain from reaching Sam's ears. Thankfully it was a short cut in length so Sam was done in no time. He carefully tied it off according to what Dean told him and declared Dean fit for bed.

"I have to wake you every hour, right?" Sam asked, putting away the extra supplies back into the med kit.

"Yep," Dean gave him a smile, "Thanks Sammy, you did great."

Sam almost smiled back, nothing close to the dimply, carefree grin he used to get.

"You should get some rest," was all Sam replied.

"What about you?" Dean inquired.

Sam picked up Dean's sweat pants and gestured towards the bathroom, "I'm gonna change, then I'll get some rest."

Dean didn't buy it for a second but thought it best not to pester the kid at the moment. Sam had already been through a lot. Too much. He'd let Sam try and deal in his own way, and if it became evident that his help was needed than by golly he'd be there to give it.

When Sam stepped out of the bathroom Dean was out like a light, sprawled across the bed closest to the door.

Sam couldn't help the fond smile that found it's way to his lips and moved to turn off the light before he paused.

He wasn't ready to return to the darkness.

Not yet.

He clicked the bathroom light on and kept the door open as he turned the rest of the lights off. Sam glanced once more at his brother and shut the bathroom door three quarters of the way closed.

There.

Enough light so that it wasn't completely dark, but dark enough so that his brother could sleep in peace.

Sam noted the time on the alarm clock. 10:03. He'd wake his brother up around eleven than.

He plopped down in one of the wooden chairs at the table and sat there. His leg started bouncing a couple minutes later. He couldn't just sit still.

Instead Sam started to pace the room.

_"_ _I've got you Sam."_

No, no, he was definitely _not_ going to think about it. About her.

_"_ _You don't have to be afraid."_

He whimpered, a sad animalistic like sound escaping past his lips before he could stop it.

He hurried to the bathroom, not wanting Dean to wake up because of him.

He closed and locked the door behind him, as if hoping that it would shield him form the memories.

It didn't.

_He hid under the stairs sandwiched between Zachary and Brady._

_"_ _Are you sure we should do this?" he whispered, tugging on Zach's sleeve._

_Zach pulled of Sam's hand and Brady poked him from behind._

_"_ _It'll be funny, I promise," Brady said, "And nobody gets hurt. We wait till she gets to the bottom of the steps."_

_"_ _You promise?"_

_Brady huffed and rolled his eyes, ruffling Sam's hair in a fond manner, "Yeah kid, I promise."_

_They heard the basement door open and someone start walking down the wooden steps._

_Brady motioned for Sam to keep quiet and Sam nodded._

_They waited and waited, who knew it could take an eternity for someone to walk down one flight of stairs?_

_Zach was up front. He held up a hand and started counting down his fingers._

_Five…four…three…two…one._

_Simultaneously they all jumped out with a yell causing Miranda to shriek and throw the laundry basket in her hands. They all started laughing, even Sam. Miranda, placed a hand over her chest to calm her racing heart. She smiled._

_"_ _All right you rascals, that's it. I'm gonna get you!" she yelled, pretending to be angry as she chased the three of them back up the stairs. Deliberately making sure that they had gotten a decent head start.  
_

_Sam ran as fast as his little legs could possibly carry him, laughing and shrieking with joy as he followed Zach and Brady, they slid around a corner, socked feet finding little traction on the parts of the wooded floor that wasn't covered by carpet.  
_

_He felt hands grab him from behind and soon he was on the couch, Miranda tickling him. Making him laugh so hard tears formed in his eyes. He wondered briefly if this was what his mother would have been like if she had been alive as he looked up and saw nothing but love shining in Miranda's gaze.  
_

The memory changed drastically to watching the blood drip down Miranda's front as she fell to the ground. The light in her eyes slowly dimming to nothing. Her body going limp as the life that had flowed so generously within her slowly drained away to nothing.

He had to do something. Anything to help release the ball of tension that had once been a heart. He felt anger and guilt and sorrow churning inside. The anger was the easiest to deal with.

He took out all his anger on whatever he could see, thoughts of keeping quiet for Dean's sake momentarily gone from his mind as he shoved everything off the counter. Heard them clatter to the ground.

It wasn't enough. Wasn't near enough.

He leaned on the sink and let his head drop into his arms. Sam lifted his head slowly and found that he couldn't stand his reflection. How could he be alive when everyone died around him?

He hit at the glass hard enough to crack it but not shatter completely. His chest was heaving and he could vaguely feel his stitches tugging slightly in his side. That was noting compared to the hollowness within.

He glanced once more at his reflection.

That's when the first tear slipped out.

Soon followed by another and another.

Sam didn't have any strength left in him to hold back the damn of tears and leaned back against the wall. Sliding down until he hit the bottom. He curled up with his knees pressed against his chest as he sobbed. Crying so hard he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop if he tried.

There was a pounding on the door but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Sammy? Come on man, open up," he heard Dean call, a note of desperation in his tone.

He couldn't reply. Didn't even know what he'd say if he could. He definitely wasn't okay. And oh gosh he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe-

The door banged open and soon Dean was there and he was holding him tightly to his chest. Dean was saying something but Sam didn't hear a word of it.

Dean held onto Sam.

"S-she-"

"Shh," Dean cut his little brother off before he could continue, "Just let it out Sammy, I've got you."

Sam was scared. He was terrified, tired, hurt, there were so many things he should've told Miranda. He should've warned her somehow, should've taken her, and Zach, and everyone with him instead of just leaving like he had.

Gone,gone,gone, they were gone.

Flashes. Memories of the past eight years kept popping up in his mind.

Flash.

Thom coming home from work with a pizza.

Flash.

Brady teaching Sam how to play ping-pong.

Flash.

Miranda teaching Sam how to bake cookies.

Flash.

Thom wrestling with Zach, Brady, and Sam in the living room.

On and on and they wouldn't _stop._

"De'," he sobbed, burying his face into Dean's shirt as if doing so would keep the memories from finding him.

Dean cradled his brother, placing his lanky frame onto his lap and just holding him. Rocking gently from side to side. He had given up on trying to distract the kid and knew that his words wouldn't matter anyways. Words alone couldn't heal the pain of a loss, especially one as recent as this was.

Instead he offered what little support he could by simply being there.

Eventually Sam's tears tampered off until there was nothing more than just the occasional sniffle. Which in time eventually disappeared as well.

Dean glanced down about to comment about how uncomfortable the bathroom floor was, when he noticed that Sam had fallen asleep right there in his arms.

Tears stains still evident on his face, making him look years younger. Sam's dark lashes were clumped together, looking darker than normal because of the wetness that still clung to them.

Sam's hands were fisted in Dean's t-shirt, his head resting against Dean's shoulder.

Dean didn't have the heart to move which is why when John and Bobby entered the room hours later they found Dean in the bathroom holding Sam.

Bobby shook his head fondly at the sight, his heart going out to the youngest Winchester.

John stepped in the small room and gently wiped Sam's bangs off of his face. The first contact he'd had with his child in a long, long time.

Dean stilled as he felt Sam move in his grasp and swore that if his brother woke up because of their father than he was going to punch the man. But Sam just pressed himself against Dean even more if that was possible. It was almost like his brother was trying to physically merge with him. The thought made Dean huff and smile slightly.

"Do you need help getting him to bed?" John whispered.

Dean shook his head, "I got it."

John nodded and stepped aside to give his eldest room as he slowly stood up from the floor. Joints protesting after sitting in such an uncomfortable position for so long.

Dean carried Sam protectively in his arms across the room before he laid Sam down in the bed furthest from the door and tucked him in gently.

"Did you get the other demon?" he asked softly, turning towards his father and Bobby once he was certain that Sam was settled in for the night.

They both nodded.

"We were planning on interrogating him tomorrow if you wanted to come," Bobby offered.

Dean glanced at the sleeping form of his brother, "We'll see," he said. They didn't need to be mind readers to hear the unspoken part of that statement. 'I'll be wherever Sam needs me to be.'

"Okay, you guys good?" John asked.

Dean nodded.

"Then we'll check in in the morning."

Dean nodded again and showed them to the door. He double checked that it was locked and that all the salt lines were in place before turning off all the lights and going to bed.

"Goodnight Sammy," he whispered, crawling between the sheets, "It'll all be better tomorrow, I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or a kudo if you have the time. Thanks for reading!


	19. The Cost of Information

Sam sat at the edge of the bed. His brown locks were mussed up and slightly tangled after sleeping. Well, Dean used the term 'sleeping' lightly. After Sam had wiped himself out in Dean's arms and Dean had put him to bed the kid had gotten about four and a half hours of rest before a nightmare woke him up. Neither of them had really been in the mood to go back to sleep after that.

Dean sat across from him, their knees almost touching, relishing the fact that it was just the two brothers in the room.

It had been a long night for both and Dean had eventually come to the conclusion that the only way to help his brother was to know what had happened to him.

"Sam," Dean sighed and bumped his knees against his brother's, "I get it if you don't trust me…"

Sam's eyes widened slightly and he shook his head, "I trust you Dean," he stated fervently.

Dean felt a weight lift off his chest at the statement, and continued cautiously, "I just, I want you to know that if you ever want to talk about…" he hesitated, trying to find the right words. Heart to heart conversations were not his specialty, "What happened," he continued evasively, "I'm always here…like, anytime." 'Wow, way to botch that up,' he thought, mentally kicking himself.

Sam's back seemed to stiffen slightly in apprehension.

"Only if you want to," Dean quickly added.

The tension slowly bled away from his brother and he nodded turning his gaze to the carpeted floor, "Okay."

"Okay," Dean repeated, standing up and moving to grab an aspirin for his throbbing head ache.

"Dean?"

He stopped and turned, "Yeah Sammy?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably almost hesitant to meet his older brother's eyes, "Uh, thanks…for everything." He didn't have to clarify everything behind that statement.

Thanks for coming back.

Thanks for making sure I'm alright.

Thanks for looking for me.

Thanks for holding me when I couldn't stand alone.

The list was endless and Sam was scared that he'd never be able to repay his brother back properly for everything that Dean had ever done for him.

Dean smiled and ruffled Sam's hair, surprised at how natural the movement felt.

"Anytime kiddo," he promised, those two words meaning just as much as Sam's thank you had.

He'd come for Sam _anytime_ Sam needed him.

He'd drop everything _anytime_ for anything the kid wanted.

He'd be there for Sam _anytime_ Sam wanted him there.

Not because it was his job. Not because he was told to.

Because he _wanted_ to.

Sam swatted his hand away looking as if he was about to add something else when the door opened cutting him off. John entered the room and Sam snapped his jaw shut so tight Dean could practically hear the molars crash against each other.

"Mornin'," John greeted.

"Hey," Dean replied, looking out of the corner of his eye to see that the tension had reentered Sam's posture once more.

He decided to shove aside his discomfort in his temples and plopped down next to his brother. He knew it'd take time for the three of them to really start acting as a family once again. Until that time he was going to be there for Sammy. Where he should have been all along.

"Sam, I think you should know," John glanced at Dean warily, as if wondering if Sam was ready to hear this,"we captured one of the demons last night," John told his youngest.

Sam's face contorted into something he didn't understand. Zachary, Sam's mind whispered, they have Zachary-

"Wait…you…you deliberately left a demon inside of Zach?" Sam asked, his voice wobbling slightly.

'Uh-oh,' Dean thought, sensing an eminent fight between Sam and his father as one might sense the one coming of a storm.

"Yes," John replied, deciding that being blunt and honest might be the best way to go, "We need to find out who they're working for and if we should be expecting any more demons to come after you."

"What about Zach?" Sam demanded, voice cracking at the name.

"Sam-"

"Huh? Did you ever think about him? What if he's awake in there? What if he's trying to get out and instead of helping him you just left him in there with a demon?!"

"Sam," John tried to calm down the situation as best he could, "I know you're fond of the kid, but we need to think about your safety."

Dean closed his eyes, trying to keep his own temper in check. Couldn't John see that Sam was more than just 'fond' of Zachary? As much as Dean hated to admit it, Zachary had been there for Sam when neither of them were. Zach was now as much a part of Sam's family as either of them were, if not more so.

"Screw my safety!" Sam's voice rose steadily, and Dean imagined what it would have been like if Sam had been with them for the past eight years.

Would he and his father have knocked heads? Would Dean be caught in the middle? Or would he choose sides? Would there be tense car rides? Nights when none of them dared to speak a word?

"Samuel-" John said using his don't-mess-with-me tone.

A tone Dean had become accustomed to hearing over the years.

Sam ignored the hint and plowed forward, "Zachary needs our help and you aren't giving it to him! Tell me, how exactly do you plan on finding out this information, hmm?" Sam waited, chest heaving and their father's silence was response enough, "You aren't hurting Zachary. You aren't going to hurt my brother."

…

Dean didn't like it.

Sam should've stayed back at the motel. He shouldn't be here watching this.

It shouldn't have even been an option and he couldn't understand why his father had even offered to let Sam come.

They were going to interrogate Zach, well the demon that possessed Zach, and the bad feeling in Dean's stomach only grew as they drew nearer to the abandoned farm in the middle of nowhere where Bobby and John had secured the demon.

Sam had been quiet and distant the whole ride and after the first few failed attempts at conversation Dean gave up.

Sam's silence rubbed him the wrong way. He hated not know what was going on in his kid's mind. He could practically see the gears turning beneath those locks of hair, but he didn't know what it meant. Didn't know if he _wanted_ to know what it meant. He kept replaying the argument between Sam and his father in his mind. Each was right in his own way, but if Dean had to choose, who would he go with? Would he really be able to put Sam's feelings for him over Sam's safety?

He turned up the stereo to drown out the silence that enveloped the car and to drown out the unwanted thoughts. He followed his father's truck down nameless streets, mentally making a map in his head in case he had to take Sam away for whatever reason.

They made it to the farm in about twenty minutes. Dean put the car in park after he drove up the gravel driveway, and just sat for a moment, neither brother making a move to exit the vehicle.

"You sure you want to do this?" Dean asked, glancing over at Sam.

Sam clenched his jaw determinedly, gazing at the barn, "I have to."

"No you don't Sam," Dean argued, "You really don't."

Finally Sam met his eyes a myriad of emotions swirling in those hazel depths, "Yes Dean, I do."

With that Sam pushed open the passenger door and stepped out. Feeling as if a lump kept growing in his chest, wondering if he would just explode from the pressure. Inside that barn was the last of the family that had loved and cared, nourished and looked after him for the past eight years. How could his brother expect him to want to be anywhere else?

He followed his father into the barn, lagging behind a few paces. He could hear Dean's footsteps in the gravel behind him. Could practically feel his older brother's disapproving gaze.

It wasn't like Dean hadn't tried to persuade him to stay on the way out of the hotel.

But Sam had to do this.

Felt compelled to, for reasons he didn't think Dean could ever truly comprehend.

Inside there was the person who'd essentially taken Dean's place in Dean's absence. Sam knew that if the roles were reversed and he were possessed Zachary would fight tooth and nail until he got Sam back. He'd do everything in his power to ensure that Sam wouldn't get hurt in the process.

Sam could do no less for him.

He entered the barn and took in the sight that met him.

Zach was tied tightly to a wooden chair with rope. He sat in the middle of a circle that had been spray painted with symbols that Sam didn't recognize. He seemed relatively unharmed besides for the occasional bruise, but nothing major, Sam noted with relief. The brief image of Miranda's final moments flashing in his mind.

He shook his head to rid himself of that memory, wondering if it would ever stop haunting him.

He felt Dean walk in behind him and stand next to him and was silently grateful for his brother's presence as nervous butterflies started to fly around in his stomach.

Bobby stood off to the right with a small table that had various objects on it. Most Sam couldn't identify, but there were knives and a couple buckets, a bag of salt, and a book. Sam's heart started hammering in his chest. He snuck a sideways glance at Dean to find his brother looking back at him. A mix of pity and concern in his gaze.

Sam broke the connection and returned his attention to Zachary.

Bobby shook his head once he saw Sam and Dean enter. John never should've invited Sam here, this wasn't something the kid should have to see. Not after all he'd been through all ready. It was evident that he wasn't the only one who felt that way, if the heated glare Dean was sending his father was anything to go by.

John cleared his throat and walked over to Bobby.

"You ready?" John asked.

Bobby shrugged, "As I'll ever be…" he waited a moment, his eyes drifting once more to the Winchester boys, "You sure they should be here?"

John nodded, knowing of course who Bobby was really referring to, "Yeah, Sam wanted to…I told him I wouldn't hurt his friend."

Bobby sighed, cursing John in his mind,"You do know that that might not be a promise you can keep, right?"

John sighed, yes, of course he knew that. It was a lose-lose situation. Should Sam be here? Probably not. But John felt that he owed it to the kid to have that option. Besides, maybe hearing what the demon had to say first hand would benefit him.

Would he be able to get everything out of the demon without physically hurting the kid the demon was possessing? He hoped so. God he hoped so. But he had to remain objective. He knew that if he laid a finger on Sam's friend than he would lose his son's trust, but he would also be better able to keep Sam safe.

What did he value more? Sam's safety, or Sam's love and trust?

It wasn't a question.

It was rule number one after all.

Protect Sam.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, obviously expecting a verbal response.

"I know Bobby," John told him, "But I would like to at least try."

The older hunter eyed the father warily, "Okay."

Dean really, _really,_ didn't like this. He tried to stand next to Sam in a way that offered support but wouldn't be considered hovering. His green eyes took in everything about the barn as they waited for their father and Bobby to finish talking about whatever they were talking about. Judging from Bobby's concerned glances their way, Dean figured he had a pretty good idea of what, or should he say who, was the topic of their discussion.

Finally Bobby and his dad seemed to reach an agreement and Bobby grabbed the bucket off the table as they approached Zachary. In the middle of the floor.

John decided to start with something simple.

"What's your name?"

The demon smiled coyly and turned it's stare towards Sam, "What? You don't recognize me Sammy-boy? I'm hurt."

John nodded once at Bobby and the gruff hunter splashed some holy water on the demon.

Zach jerked back and hissed as the water burned on his skin. Eyes turning coal black.

Sam lurched forward and Dean grabbed his brother's arm.

"They're hurting him!" Sam gasped, looking pleadingly at Dean, begging him to understand.

"Sam," Dean said, waiting until his brother stopped struggling in his hold, but keeping a firm grip on his forearm, "They aren't hurting Zach," he promised, "Holy water only effects the demon."

"But-but…" Sam stuttered looking completely lost.

"I promise you Sam," Dean told him, "It isn't hurting him. Promise."

Sam stilled and nodded, "Okay," he sighed. 'Dean wouldn't lie to me. He wouldn't. Would he?' Sam shook the thought from his mind and focused on what was going on, 'Zach needs me right now.'

Dean let go of his grip and nodded as well, ready to interfere again if necessary.

"What's your name?" John asked again, his tone more threatening.

Zach smirked, "What's in it for me Johnny?"

Another splash of holy water.

Dean reached for Sam but his brother just stiffened and turned his head away as the demon howled in pain and anger.

"Meg!" the demon yelled, panting, "My name's Meg."

John nodded, "Why did you trail and kidnap my son, _Meg_?"

On any other occasion Dean might have been able to see the humor in the situation. A female demon was possessing a male's body. But he didn't see anything funny about any of this. He could see the clear anguish in Sam's eyes as they watched the interrogation unfold before them. The sheer pain as if each second added to the torture. Dean couldn't even begin to imagine what he would feel if Sam were in Zach's position.

The older brother wanted nothing more than to grab Sam by his shoulders and shake him until he got some sense and decided to go. Go out. Go anywhere not there. Away from it all.

But he didn't.

He remained frozen in place, trying to watch out for a little brother who seemed intent on being the end of him.

Meg/ Zach smiled and cocked her head to the side, "Why?" she drawled.

After another signal from John, Bobby splashed some more holy water on the demon.

"You can't protect him," Meg stated, breathing heavily. Eyes closed until the majority of the pain had faded, "Ever. We'll always come after him."

"Why?"

Meg smiled and glanced over at Sam before turning to John, "Because we have orders."

"What orders?"

Meg just kept smiling smugly, not answering.

"What. Orders?!"

Even with holy water Meg wouldn't talk and now John was getting desperate. It didn't help that every other time he asked the demon seemed to look over to Sam. Like his son was some sort of prize. His vision turned red at the edges.

John marched back to the table and grabbed a knife then started walking back swiftly.

"Dad?" Sam asked, started to move towards him his heart rate skyrocketing. 'He wouldn't…not after he promised me….he wouldn't... "Dad what-?"

He was held back by a strong arm wrapping around his chest.

Dean.

Sam struggled now even harder than he had before because he knew that this, this would surely hurt Zach as well.

"Don't hurt him!" he yelled, but John made no indication that he had heard his call, "Dad! Leave him alone!"

John turned and looked back, trying his best not to meet Sam's eyes.

"Take your brother outside Dean," John ordered.

"Dad-!" Sam begged, but John wasn't listening to him.

"Now!" John barked.

Dean started pulling Sam out of the barn. It was a struggle all the way but eventually they made it outside. The door slamming shut behind them.

"No…"Sam whimpered, still struggling to get back inside.

"Sam, dad won't-" Dean cut himself off, not able to bring himself to lie, "I'm sure it'll be okay."

"I can't lose him," Sam said softly, finally relaxing into Dean's hold, whether he was too exhausted to continue fighting, or realized that Dean was stronger Dean didn't know, "I can't lose him too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment or a kudo if you have the time. Thanks again!


	20. Only so Much to Lose

Sam sat hunched over in the chair. Looking like the world rested on his shoulders. His head was bowed forward as if in prayer as he listened to the rhythmic beating of the machines around him. Arms supporting his head as his elbows dug into his jeans. The noise comforted him. It meant that, for the time being, Zachary was okay.

Well, not _okay._

Zachary was nowhere near okay, in his mind.

Heck, nothing was okay about this situation.

Not one little thing.

He father had lied to him.

That much was blatantly obvious, at least. There weren't any doubts about that. If he _had_ kept his promise they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. He might as well make that fact his cornerstone and build upon it, he thought grimly. The familiar anger he felt towards John rearing its head. Spreading through his veins like a fire that consumed everything until he wanted to punch something.

John's fault.

All of it.

'If he hadn't dumped me all those years ago none of this would've happened,' Sam thought bitterly. He pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing the thought away, but it did nothing to quell the nausea at the thought that his own father had done this to Zachary.

Focus, he had to focus. 'Whining and fretting over what happened wasn't going to change anything,' he reasoned, 'Go over what you know…. _besides_ the fact that John lied.'

Zach was hurt. Hurt badly. The only reason he was still breathing? Because a freakin' machine was doing the breathing part for him.

There seemed to be more wires poking out of his seemingly lifeless form than skin.

Zach's face was pale and lax. No signs of regaining consciousness as of yet.

But he would.

He'd wake up.

Sam told himself that over and over, making it ingrained in his mind.

He knew what the doctor had said in the hallway before allowing Sam to go through the ICU doors.

The man had explained that they'd needed to put Zachary into a medically induced coma. It was his only shot at survival.

'If' Zach made it through the night than he had a relatively good chance of recovery. At the moment that chance was reduced to twenty-five percent. Sam's blood had boiled in his veins at the elderly doctor's words. Speaking as if Zachary was no more than just a number on a chart.

'Even if Zach makes it through the night, there's no guarantee that he'll ever wake up,' a voice whispered in his mind.

He shut his eyes closed tightly. Zach _would_ wake up. No if's, and's, or but's about it.

Sam opened his eyes and took in a shuddering breath before letting it out slowly, eyes gazing over all of the equipment currently keeping his brother alive.

"You need to wake up Zachary," he whispered, voice slightly hoarse, "I mean, come on man. We both know that Brady is always the dramatic one," his throat clenched at the thought of Brady. True, he'd never really been as close to the red-head as he'd been with Zach, but he'd come to trust and respect him. Was he even alive? He wanted to say yes…but doubt lingered in his heart. He cleared his throat and continued talking, "Playing Sleeping Beauty really isn't your style."

He knew that realistically the sound of his voice wouldn't be enough to wake Zach up. He still felt disappointed nonetheless when nothing changed. Not even a slight catch or pause in the brain wave scanner they had hooked up to him that would alert the staff whenever Zach decided to wake up.

"I'm so sorry," Sam whimpered, planting his elbows on the side of the bed and propping his head in his hands, "God, I'm so sorry Zachary."

A meager tear slid down his cheek and he wondered briefly if he'd even be able to cry when he was older with all the crying he'd done recently. Surely the body must have a tear producing limit…

He groaned and tugged his hands through his hair.

"You can't die Zachary," he stated, his voice shaking slightly, "I won't let you, simple as that. Remember? You're stuck with me, you don't-" his voice cracked and he tried to swallow around the huge lump in his throat, "you don't get to check out on me now. Not like this. What about becoming a therapist? Huh? God knows, you'd have been a great one. I'd have been your first patient, did you know that? I'd have waited, just to talk to you. And I can't…I-I can't….I can't talk to you if you aren't here," the last few words were no more than a mere whisper.

Dean walked through the ICU unit quietly. Nodding at the few on-duty nurses that he passed along the way. It really was a decent hospital compared to some of the ones he'd had to deal with over the years. The staff was more than welcoming and compassionate towards them. He knew that the protocol for ICU was family only, and yet the head nurse had been more than happy to wave aside that rule so that they could support Zach.

Speaking of which…

He made his way to the back right corner where Zachary was located, knowing he'd find his brother there.

The sight that met his eyes almost made him smile.

Sam's lower half was in the chair, the upper half lying on the bed. His brother clearly fast asleep with his head pillowed in his arms. He didn't doubt that the poor squirt had to be exhausted.

He mind flashed back to the frantic rush to the hospital…

'Bobby had flown out the door of the barn, hardly giving them a second glance as he dashed to his truck, John soon following, hot on his heels.

In John's arms was a limp Zachary.

Red.

Red everywhere.

The sight made him sick.

"What did you do?!" Sam cried, his voice full of accusation and fear, "What did you do to him?!"

Dean held his brother back, already yanking him towards the impala.

"No!" Sam yelled, "You promised! You promised me!"

John was already climbing into the back seat of Bobby's truck.

"Let me go!" Sam yelled, turning to Dean, "I have to be with him!"

"Sam, stop!" Dean had to shout and he hated it. Had always hated whenever he had to raise his voice at his sibling, but he needed Sam to listen to him.

Sam's struggles immediately ceased.

"You can't go with Bobby," Dean added the rest quickly, "Dad is the best medic I know Sam, he'll keep Zach alive until they reach the hospital, okay? You can't go with him, you'd get in the way."

It was blunt. Arguably too blunt but Sam needed to understand this.

Bobby was already pulling out of the driveway quickly and if they had any chance of following they needed to go quickly.

"Got it?"

Sam nodded dejectedly and shrugged out of his grip to climb into the impala.

Dean sighed before following suite and put the car in drive. He pressed his foot down hard on the gas pedal trying to catch up.'

Half of Dean was tempted to wake Sam up and bring him back to the motel to sleep in a proper bed. He knew from experience that when Sam woke up his neck wouldn't be too happy with him. Never mind the fact that Sam was still recovering himself.

He shook of the idea however and resigned himself to taking off his leather jacket and draping it gracefully over his brother's shoulders.

He had nowhere else to go. Nothing to do. So he plopped down in the chair across from Sam and propped his feet up on the bed. It didn't matter that Sam was asleep or that Zach wasn't even completely there at the present, he still felt like he was intruding on something. Like he was an outsider walking into something personal.

He sighed and took another look at Sam before glancing at Zach.

He didn't know what to feel about Zachary anymore. Zach had every right to hate him, to want nothing to do with Dean, and yet when they'd run into each other at the hospital he didn't seem to hate Dean or try to drive Dean away at all. If anything he'd tried to push Dean _to_ Sam instead of away.

He wanted to hate Zachary so badly. He really did. Anger was such an easier route to take instead of accepting the guilt that was nibbling away at him from the inside.

The problem was, he couldn't hate Zachary any more than he could hate his brother.

Dean shook his head. Nothing about this situation was easy, that was the only thing he knew for sure.

He just prayed that, for Sammy's sake, Zach did manage to pull through this. He honestly didn't know how many more punches Sam could take before he fell apart.

His eyelids drooped slowly, his head starting to become heavy.

He jerked upwards.

Alert, he had to remain alert. John and Bobby were working on cleaning the barn where they'd held the interrogation. Wiping away all traces that anyone had ever been there. Bobby'd promised that they'd return to the hospital as soon as they could to recount everything the demon had told them.

Dean hoped that whatever info they'd managed to get was worth it, 'cause if he knew anything, it was that this was something Sam would be holding against their father for a long, _long,_ time. Not that Dean could find it in his heart to blame him.

His eyelids started to droop again but this time he didn't fight it. He let the gentle arms of sleep envelope him into a peaceful dark abyss.

Sam woke with a jerk, blinking his eyes, wondering what had woken him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up straight, something slowly sliding off of his shoulder in the process.

He turned back, confused and pulled out the leather jacket.

Dean. His heart warmed slightly at the thought of Dean offering his coat up for Sam to use as a blanket.

That meant Dean had been here. He glanced around the small curtained space but there was no sign of his elder brother.

That was when he heard the voices.

No more than harsh whispers from somewhere nearby.

"Honestly dad, I don't know what to think!" that was Dean, it had to be.

"Dean I had every justification to do what I did," their father hissed back, "You would have done the same thing in my shoes and you know it."

"Well," Dean gave a small huff that could have been a laugh but Sam couldn't tell, "You better hope that Zachary makes it out okay, because if I were Sam right now I wouldn't want you anywhere near me."

Sam didn't know how to feel about Dean's comment. It was true, he knew it, and somehow Dean knew it, but he hated the fact that his family was talking about him _again_ without him being actually present.

Their father whispered something back, too quiet for Sam's ears to catch, but he caught Dean's response.

"Well, did you at least get any useful information?"

"A name, nothing more," John sounded disappointed.

"What name?"

"Azazel."

The was a beat of silence, "Is he, what, like some kind of demon ring leader? Why the heck is he going after Sam? Does he-"

"Dean I don't know," John interrupted, his voice sounding strained, as if he were exhausted.

'What time is it anyway?' Sam wondered.

"But I do know," John continued, "That until we hunt this thing down it'll keep coming after Sam."

"Do you…"Dean seemed hesitant to ask whatever question was on his mind, "Do you think this Azazel is responsible for mom?"

John let out a loud sigh, "Nothing right now is for sure Dean."

Dean had to bite back a smart remark at his father's response. One thing _was_ for sure. Whatever was going on Sam, his _brother,_ was smack dab in the middle of it. He didn't like that. Not one bit.

Sam would've loved to hear the rest of the conversation. To find out what else his father had managed to get out of the demon before exorcising it. Who was this Azazel character? _Did_ he have something to do with his mother's death? Could this lone demon really be the reason behind why his father was now a hunter? He yearned to storm out there and demand answers, but something was going on. The machines hooked up to Zachary started going off and Sam had no idea what any of them meant.

He shoved open the curtains, surprising both John and Dean, though how they could've remained oblivious to the machines Sam had no idea.

"Call the doctor!" Sam yelled, his heart beating frantically, "Call the doctor _now_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or kudo if you have the time. Thanks again!


	21. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, only four more chapters to go. A huge thank you to everyone who's left a kudo, they always make me smile. :) Hope you enjoy!

Sam's warning shout had scared Dean. He knew, somehow, call it intuition, over some sort of brother spidey-sense, whatever you want, but he _knew_ that if they lost Zachary now than they'd lose Sam as well, and whether or not they be able to get him back afterwards...well, he wasn't sure. The thought terrified him.

At his brother's yell nurses flooded in, soon followed by the elderly doctor who'd been overseeing Zach's care since he was put in the hospital. He hadn't bothered to catch the man's name. It wasn't like they made a habit of staying in hospitals frequently so he didn't really see why he should bother with something that trivial.

Sam was ushered out of the curtained area and the curtains were drawn shut, leaving them to guess what was going on behind them. Letting their imaginations loose on what could be the source of the sounds that seeped out.

Dean glanced at Sam. The kid was still too pale for his liking, but he was definitely on the mend. He'd probably be able to have his stitches removed in a couple days' time. The bruises were gone now, well, the ones on his face. He wondered if the ones on his chest had healed completely just yet or if they'd take more time.

Sam's chest rose and fell as if he had just sprinted over from somewhere. Wide hazel eyes met his own, filled with unmasked fear and uncertainty, he didn't hesitate to wrap a supportive arm over Sam's shoulders and draw him into his side.

He glanced over Sam's head of curls to say something to their father but when he glanced over John was gone. Disappeared.

"Figures," Dean muttered sourly.

He finally manages to talk to the man and as soon as the conversation ended John had just left. Dean closed his eyes and reminded himself to focus.

'Sam needs me,' he told himself.

His heart swelled at the thought.

To be _needed_.

It'd been so long since he'd felt that way. Sure, he'd helped John and various other hunters on hunts over the years, but he'd only been an extra set of eyes and hands. They hadn't _needed_ him.

He bit his lip. If only Sam needed him for any other reason than the fact that for all they knew Zach could be dying less than ten feet away.

"Come on Sam," he said softly, "Let's go find a seat."

Sam shook his head, "No, you go ahead. I'll wait here."

Dean sighed, "Sam, you're exhausted and you can barely stand on your feet." His green eyes darted across the ICU, "Look," he jerked his head to the far wall, "There's a couple chairs, with cushions I might add, less than thirty feet away."

Sam remained stubborn and shook his head again. What had Dean expected? His brother _was_ a Winchester after all. But so was he, and he didn't give up easily either.

"Look, dude, you're barely standing up on your own two feet right now. You need to sit down."

"I'm fine," Sam stated simply, ears straining for any clue as to what was happening to Zachary.

'If Zach's heart had been failing than he wouldn't have lasted this long, right? I would hear a machine if he flat-lined, right? So if he wasn't getting worse than what did that mean?' Sam wondered. His heart fluttered, 'maybe he's waking up!'

"No, you're not," Dean argued interrupting Sam's thoughts, "You're only standing right now because I'm propping you up."

That caught Sam's attention. His little brother's eyes traveled to the arm he'd positioned on Sam's shoulders as if Sam hadn't noticed it before. He probably hadn't, he'd been too focused on the curtains to really notice anything that would draw his attention away.

Sam pursed his lips. He wanted to argue. Wanted to stand there all day long if that's what it took.

He _couldn't_ leave.

Couldn't just abandon Zach like that.

He of all people knew what it was like to wake up in a strange hospital full of strange people.

'Maybe that's what this all boils down to,' he thought grimly. 'Maybe it really isn't about leaving Zach. Maybe it's about them leaving me…'

He shook the thought from his head.

Sure the whole 'being abandoned' thing had done a number to him. But he liked to think that he'd overcome that over the last eight years. But now? With his brother, father, heck even Bobby, now he wasn't so sure that he'd overcome that so much as buried it. And their presence was drawing all of it back into the light. And now he was confused because they were his family. And yet so was Zach, and Miranda, and...he blinked his eyes as they started to fill. Was it wrong of him to think of those people as his family as well? Did it make him selfish if, whenever he thought of a mother, he now pictured Miranda instead of the stranger in his father's photos?

"Sam?" Dean asked, from his tone Sam knew it hadn't been the first time his brother had said his name.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to orient himself.

'I will _not_ throw myself a pity-party right now,' he told himself firmly.

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

Dean bit his lower lip, wishing that he had the power to read minds that way he knew what was going on in his brother's head. It couldn't have been good if the look that had come over Sam's face while he'd zoned out was anything to go by. Had that been tears he'd seen?

"Yeah, you really need to sit down," Dean decided, leaving no room for further argument on the matter.

He half dragged Sam over to the chairs and plopped down, glad that these ones were at least semi-comfortable.

The minute Sam sat down his leg started bouncing, giving off the impression that he had too much energy, when Dean felt like only the opposite could be true since he doubted Sam'd had a good night's rest ever since the demons had taken him. In fact, he _knew_ Sam hadn't had a good night's rest since that time.

"You okay?" he finally asked.

Sam hesitated in answering and replied with a shrug, "Left your jacket in there. Sorry."

Dean rolled his eyes, "That's fine, we'll grab it once we find out what's going on."

"You don't…"Sam hesitated, pinning his eyes on the curtains that separated him and Zachary, "You don't think…?"

"Sam, he's still fighting," Dean reassured his brother, putting as much conviction behind that sentence as he could muster.

"How do you know?" Sam turned to him, his eyes full of a hope that maybe Dean knew more than he did. Maybe he could explain why the nurses who buzzed in and out of the cubicle like little bees looked worried.

"Because if he wasn't one, we would know by now, and two," Dean nodded towards the last nurse who came out. This one had a glimmer of a smile on her face, "Do you really think she'd look that way if one of her patient's was dying?"

Sam shook his head.

Dean had a good point. Two good points, although Sam had already thought of the first one, so maybe that didn't count…he wiped his tired eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sat that way, trying to control the cauldron of emotions that bubbled inside of him, threatening to overflow.

Sam felt his brother nudge his knee and looked up to see the doctor striding towards them. In the corner of his eyes he saw Dean stand.

He knew standing would be the polite thing to do, but he figured if this was bad news it might be best if he remained sitting to begin with.

"Mr. Winchester," the doctor addressed Dean and Sam with a courteous nod.

Sam glanced at his name tag. 'Doctor Ruther,' he read.

"Doctor," Dean said, trying to keep the tension at a minimum and the conversation polite.

"How's Zach?" Sam asked, glancing up through his bangs, wanting to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible.

Doctor Ruther pursed his lips into a straight line. Sam's heart beat quickened, that was never a good sign. Especially not when you're about to receive news from a doctor.

"He's stable," the doctor stated, reviewing his charts quickly so he could give the two brothers correct information.

"So what happened doc?" Dean asked, more for Sam's sake than anything else.

"It appears Zach's brain waves were starting to fluctuate and his body started to fight the ventilator."

"What does that mean?" Sam asked, not bothering to mask his confusion.

"It means…" Doctor Ruther sighed, "The Zach appears to be trying to wake up."

Now Sam was glad he had thought to remain sitting. He knew for sure that had he been standing his legs would've buckled at the news.

Zach was waking up!

Then he caught sight of the doctor's haggard looking face and his spirits started dropping.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"In any other case yes," the doctor was clearly trying to choose his words carefully.

"I thought that if Zach woke up that would mean that he would be on the road to healing," Dean stated.

"In any other case we'd be delighted, and it _is_ a promising sign, but…" Doctor Ruther decided to just plow right throw it in one punch, "I'm afraid he might be waking up too early."

Sam had already had enough of this man and his riddles. Two hours ago he'd wanted Zach to wake up. If Zachary woke up, it was as Dean said, it'd mean that he was getting better and that they were out of this hesitant, unknowing stage. Now he's saying that Zach was waking up too early?

"What do you mean too early?" Sam asked, his tone turning cold, pinning the doctor with a demanding glare, as if it was his fault that this had happened.

"When the body is in a coma it's like it's rebooting," Doctor Ruther explained, "It allows the body to get a kick start in healing because that's the only thing the body has to worry about while under. We'd initially planned Zach to show signs of improvement _maybe_ by tonight. Perhaps a few fluctuations tomorrow if we're lucky. The fact that he's choosing to start fluctuating now has me worried."

Sam's eyes lost the anger that had fueled their glow a moment before as he processed what the doctor had just stated. Worry now fulling his gaze as he tried to comprehend what it all could mean for Zachary.

"You don't think his body has had enough time to recover?" Dean surmised.

Doctor Ruther nodded, "That's my fear."

"What happens if he wakes up too soon?" Sam asked.

Doctor Ruther shook his head, "I don't know. It could be fine. Or…well, he could be in a lot of pain for a long time. It's hard to say."

"What do you suggest we do then?" Dean asked, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his feet a little wider to a more comfortable position.

Doctor Ruther sighed again, "I would keep him under. Try and reduce the risk, while letting the machines do their job and help him heal. We don't know anything about his mental state at this point either-"

"If he woke up too soon, would that be affected?" Sam wondered.

"Like I said, it's hard to say. He could wake up and be perfectly fine and we'd just have to pump him full of pain medicine. Or, on the flip side, waking up could do him more damage than good. If he started fighting the machines and not letting them help him…it would definitely set his recovery rate back."

Sam nodded and remained silent.

"I'll let you guys think it over," Doctor Ruther told them, "If it's alright with you I'd like a decision by tonight that way we can prepare on the off chance that he wakes up either today or tomorrow."

Sam buried his face in his hands, feeling the hopelessness and depression from when he'd sat at Zach's bedside emerge once again. Was he really going to get Zach back just to lose him once again?

Dean nodded and the doctor took the cue and walked away to check on his other patients. He sat back down in the chair and let out a long exhale.

"So…what do you want to do?" he asked Sam.

Sam took a shuddering breath, "We don't really have a choice, do we?"

"We always have a choice."

Sam snorted and wiped at his eyes, refusing to meet his brother's gaze, knowing that he'd find nothing but concern and pity in those green depths. Neither of which were something that he wanted or needed at this point.

"No. Not when it comes to Zach we don't."

"So…I'm guessing you want to have the doctor's keep him under then?"

"No!" the yell escaped from Sam's lips too quick for him to catch it, he slumped back in his seat, "I don't know." He whispered dejectedly.

"Either way we go we're gonna be taking a risk," Dean told him gently.

Sam had to bite back a retort for that statement.

"We keep him under," Sam decided, "I'm not causing Zachary any more pain."

Sam stood up, suddenly feeling as if the ICU was too confining. The walls ready to cave in at any point.

"None of this was your fault Sam," Dean told him, standing up as well and forcing Sam to meet his gaze.

"No? Then whose was it? Hmm? Dad's? Or what about that demon? What was his name? Azazel?"

Dean looked taken aback for a second, "So you heard that."

Sam rolled his eyes, "You guys weren't exactly being discreet about it."

"I swear Sam I would've told you everything," Dean said earnestly.

Sam's gaze softened slightly, "Yeah, I know you would've. But dad wouldn't. He probably hasn't even told you everything yet. Is that where he is? Trying to find this Azazel?"

Dean shook his head, "I don't know. It's like you said, he doesn't tell me everything."

Sam puffed his cheeks out as he let out a breath, "Our family's messed up man."

Dean snorted, "That's the understatement of the year. Come on," he flung an arm around Sam's shoulders and started walking back towards Zach's space, "Let's go check on Sleeping Beauty."

Sam nodded and allowed himself to be led.

Worry fluttered around in his gut.

Even if Zach did wake up and nothing was wrong, he'd still have a long ways to go until he fully recovered. It took Sam almost a week and he just had one small cut from a tiny surgery. That was nothing compared to the many lacerations on Zachary's body courtesy of his father. No way woulld Zach be able to bounce back to his normal self in that same amount of time. It'd likely take him weeks, a month at least.

His anxiety grew as he thought it through. He found it hard to believe that his family would wait that long. Not with the prospect of a new hunt and a trail that was growing colder each day they spent here.

Would they stay here with Zachary? Or would his family dump him and drive off? What would _he_ do if his family decided to leave Zach?

If it came down to it, who would he choose? Zachary? Or Dean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, please, please, please leave a comment or a kudo if you have the time. Thanks again!


	22. The Training Begins

Dean carried the bag of hot food into the hospital. Technically they weren't allowed to bring in outside food or drinks, but he'd gotten to know the head nurse and security guard pretty well over the past few weeks and they'd managed to figure something out.

After all, eating the hospital slop offered in the cafeteria daily would not be what any of them considered a healthy diet.

Their father and Bobby had driven off to Bobby's place a few days after the news on Zach and his condition. In truth, he'd thought that his father would've run off sooner, given the man's track record. Bobby had promised to call and swing by to pick him, or them, if Sam was up to it, if they found any leads on the demon. Until then, the two adults would be buried in research and he'd be here. With Sam.

He wouldn't have had it any other way.

Just him and his brother.

He and Sam had fallen into a sort of routine.

As soon as visiting hours opened up at seven, he dropped Sam off. Then he drove and got something to eat at a diner, or if he was feeling particularly adventurous that day, he'd bake something on his own at the motel. Once he got the food, Dean drove back to the hospital and ate with Sam at Zach's bedside. They would sit in Zach's room until about lunch time. Then Dean would force Sam to get up and walk around a little that way he wouldn't injure his back by sitting in the same position day after day. Dean would drive off, get some lunch, and they'd eat it just like they had breakfast.

Then they'd sit some more.

Sometimes they'd talk about various topics. Nothing too deep or personal. Mostly topics that Dean really didn't care about, but when the silence seemed too stiffling, he was more than willing to talk about something as trivial as the weather, or anything else that popped into his head.

He'd offered to take Sam to the library so that while they were waiting Sam would at least have something to do to keep his mind occupied, but Sam had declined. Instead choosing to remain in a bleak state, his mind running through endless scenarios of what could be, and what had been-

_"But, I don't understand," Sam said, swing his legs off the edges of the bed, back and forth, back and forth, watching Zach search through Sam's closet for the younger's shoes._

_"It's the Fourth of July Sam," Zach replied, as if that was enough of an explanation._

_For any other child it might have been. But Sam's memories of the fourth of July were filled with musky hotel rooms, maybe renting a movie, but other than that it had just been like any other day._

_Zach paused and looked at Sam curiously, "What have you never been to a fireworks show?"_

_Sam shook his head._

_"You do know what fireworks are, right?" Zach asked, finding Sam's tennis shoes and walking over to the nine year old._

_Sam rolled his eyes, "Yes, they make loud noises and pretty colors."_

_Zach chuckled, "Yeah, that pretty much sums them up. But it is awesome."_

_Zach plopped Sam's tennis shoes in the kid's lap than stood up._

_"I'll meet you downstairs when you're ready, okay squirt?" he asked._

_Sam nodded and watched as the blonde teenager left the room. He glanced at the pictures on his nightstand. His hazel eyes moving to the one with him, his father, and, most important of all, Dean._

_"I wish you could be here De'," he whispered, slipping on his shoes and tying them quickly._

_He hopped off the bed and, on second thought, grabbed Dean's jacket that hung off one of the posts of the bed. He slipped on the over-sized coat and walked downstairs. Determined that, even if Dean couldn't be with him physically, than he'd bring a piece of his brother with him._

Sam's eyes stung as the memory faded. That had been when he was still naive enough to think his family had left him by accident and that they'd drop by and pick him up any day. Of course, Dean _had_ shown up to pick him up, but… He rubbed his face tiredly trying to chase away he feelings that arose now with any thought of the family who'd taken care of him for the past eight years.

"You okay?" Dean asked him, trying not to sound too overbearing.

Sam nodded, "Just tired I guess."

Dean nodded at the response, at least Sam wasn't trying to convince him that he was fine. _That_ had been one conversation that he did not want to repeat.

"How you holding up?" Dean questioned, not really wanting to revert back to the still silence just yet.

Sam shrugged, "Okay."

"Anything I can do?"

Sam's lips quirked upwards at the offer and he looked over at Dean, gratitude shining in his eyes.

"No Dean, but thanks for the offer."

Dean nodded again, giving a small smile of his own as the conversation died. 'If Sam wants to talk, he'll talk,' he told himself, his leg starting to bounce up and down. He couldn't remember any time in his life when he'd sat still for so long in the same chair doing absolutely nothing.

A few minutes passed before rock music started blaring from Dean's pocket. He'd be lying if he didn't say that it was a welcome distraction, although the thought made him feel slightly guilty.

He pulled out his cellphone and checked the caller id. 'Dad.'

"You better pick that up," Sam told him, glancing at him expectantly.

Dean sighed, 'so much for a welcome distraction', "Yeah," he stood up, his knees popping, and walked out of the cramped space.

He waited until he was a few yards away to actually pick up his phone and pressed it against his ear.

"Hello?"

Sam remained sitting in his chair. The space felt emptier somehow whenever Dean wasn't there. Not so much like it was quieter, but like there was this hole were the last puzzle piece should fit. It was a strange sensation that Sam couldn't quite understand.

He had a vague idea about what his father was calling about. Really, it could only be one of two things.

One, the most unlikely, he was calling to check up on them. Sam chuckled, that was _very_ unlikely.

Or two, they'd finally found a lead on the demon.

"Azazel," he muttered, the name still feeling foreign on his tongue no matter how many times he said it.

Just the thought of the demon who was responsible for all of this made his blood boil. He wanted revenge. Needed it. But was he stuck between a rock and a hard place.

As much as he yearned to join the hunt Zach was his first priority. Besides the fact that he'd been out of training for about eight years now.

Dean came back into the small enclosure a few minutes later, his expression unreadable.

"What'd dad say?" Sam asked.

"They found a possible lead," Dean replied.

"Oh," Sam looked down at his hands, "So, are you going to go with them?"

Dean shook his head, "I told dad I'd stay here until they found something solid."

"I'm sure he loved being told that," Sam said shrewdly.

Dean chuckled, "Oh yeah. But he respected my decision."

"You mean, he tried to convince you, argued with you, than huffed and hung up?" Sam guessed.

Dean laughed again, "You seem to understand him pretty well."

Sam shrugged, "He isn't that complicated. There's always another hunt, right?"

Dean cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out where his little brother was taking this particular conversation and chose to remain on the cautious side, "That's one way of looking at it, I guess."

"So…once they find something solid, will you leave?"

'Ah, there's the problem,' Dean thought, trying to hide the glee he felt when he realized Sam didn't actually want him to go.

"I might," he conceded, "But I was also thinking of staying here. What are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, would you stay? Or go?"

Sam hesitated, "I don't know," he admitted.

Dean's brow furrowed together, "You're thinking of going?"

"Maybe?" Sam shook his head, "It's just all complicated right now. I mean, sitting around here isn't really doing any good. But…I don't know, I feel like I _should_ be here. And yet…"

"You feel like you should be a part of the hunt to," Dean finished for him.

Sam nodded and looked at him like he had when he was a child. Always looking to his older brother for the answer and explanation. Gosh Dean had missed that look. Missed the admiration that used to shine in Sammy's eyes even if he knew deep down that he didn't deserve it.

"That is a tough choice," Dean stated, trying to buy himself some time as he figured out how to help ease Sam's uncertainty, "Look, no one can make this choice for you. And I _will_ support you no matter what you choose, okay?"

Sam nodded, "But what would you do?"

Dean hesitated, "If you were lying there?" He pointed to Zach's prone form on the bed.

Sam nodded again.

"I would probably stay. Unless I thought for whatever reason that going and hunting would make you safer, I would stay."

"What if you had no training as a hunter?" Sam wondered.

"If it meant your well-being I would go in a heartbeat, but yeah, otherwise I'd stay by your side."

"So you think I should stay then?" Sam surmised.

"I think you should go with your gut." Dean countered, feeling as if Sam had somehow verbally forced him into a corner.

Sam huffed, "That doesn't exactly help."

Dean looked at him sympathetically, "I know man. But hey, right now we don't even have to think about leaving or staying right now. We don't know anything for sure yet and we'll just cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Yeah," Sam agreed halfheartedly.

"If it makes you feel any better, I can teach you some moves at the hotel tonight," Dean offered.

Sam's face lit up as if he'd just given him a present, "You'd do that?"

Dean smiled, "Of course kiddo."

…

"Okay, since you're a little new to this I'll take it easy on you-"

"No," Sam interrupted, shaking out his arms and stretching his legs a little. Loosening up for the lesson.

The two brothers were squared off in the middle of their hotel room. Making space by moving the couch into the kitchen. They both wore an old t-shirt, shorts, and socks.

"Don't go easy on me," Sam told Dean, a clear warning in his tone.

Dean sighed, "Sam-"

"The demon won't go easy on me," Sam reasoned, "Nor any other monster out there. I've got to learn the hard way."

Dean rolled his eyes, 'stupid little brothers and their freakin' independent streaks', "Fine, but we'll start with basic techniques than."

"Why? You afraid I'm gonna send you to the hospital?" Sam teased.

Dean rolled his eyes and ruffled Sam's hair, "No. Because I _know_ I'll send _you_ to the hospital Sammy."

Sam chuckled, making Dean grin.

"Okay, so the first thing you need to know is how to fall," Dean decided, moving so that he stood next to Sam.

"Didn't dad teach us this?" Sam asked, the memories of his childhood training foggy in the back of his mind.

Dean nodded, "Yep. So hopefully after a while your muscles will remember the steps, but until then we'll work with what we got."

"So how am I supposed to fall?"

"Never land straight on your arms if you can help it. It's a surefire way to break your bones if you do. Believe me, I learned the hard way."

"You've broken your arm?"

"A couple times," Dean shrugged it off as if it was no big deal. Liking breaking an arm was something normal people did on a daily basis, "So, when you do fall forward you want to do a somersault basically."

Sam wrinkled his nose, "Why?"

"So you can get back on your feet quicker. A hunter on his back is a hunter begging for a serious injury."

Dean let that fact sink in for a moment before continuing.

"So when you roll you want to twist your upper like this," Dean demonstrated, "That way you role and your weight moves across your shoulders."

Sam nodded.

"Want me to show you?" Dean asked.

Sam hesitated than nodded again, figuring seeing it before trying it wouldn't hurt anything.

Dean jumped a little on the balls of his feet before jumping up and projecting his body forward. Curling up, rolling, and popping to his feet effortlessly in front of the kitchenette.

"Do you have to jump?" Sam wondered.

"No, but it helps if you do," Dean answered, "I can toss you over my knee, that's how I learned it with dad."

"I'm good," Sam answered.

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Okay, you try it once, but if and when you fail, you'll do it again with me throwing you over my knee."

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence," Sam said dryly.

Dean chuckled, "Well, come on then."

Sam did try. Than he tried again, and again. Each time he failed. Dean, for his part, kept words of encouragement flowing from his mouth and never criticized him once.

"You ready for some help?" he asked.

Sam huffed and got to his feet after his third try and wiped his bangs off of his forehead, finally admitting defeat.

"Fine," Sam sighed.

Dean knelt down on one knee and motioned for Sam to move closer to him.

"Okay, I'm going to flip you over my knee, alright?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

"One, two," Dean positioned his arms accordingly, "Three."

Sam gasped as he was thrown forward, Dean's arms already bending his upper body down, it was only a matter of twisting his upper body so that he rolled over his shoulder.

He popped up on his feet as Dean applauded him.

"Okay," Dean gestured for him to come back to his starting position, "Did you feel how different that felt?"

Sam nodded.

"Okay, let's try it again and then I'll stop tossing you."

They tried it again and got the same result. Next Sam worked on jumping over Dean's knee himself and rolling. His movements were started to become more coordinated, smooth. Although it was clear more practice would be necessary, not that Dean had expected anything else.

By the time they were satisfied and decided to call it quits for the night Sam's bangs were starting to stick to his forehead.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Sam stated, grabbing a clean set of clothes.

Dean nodded and plopped down on the his bed, grabbing the TV remote.

"Dean?"

Dean turned to look at his brother.

Sam hesitated but then smiled gratefully, "Thank you…again."

Dean smiled, wondering once more how he ever could have gone through eight years without his brother by his side, "No problem kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Please, if you have the time, leave a comment or a kudo. Thank you once again!


	23. The Awakening

Sam could confidently state that he and his brother were getting closer. Sure, to get closer meant that he woke up in the morning with sore muscles and mysterious light bruises dotting his skin, but he would take all of it if it meant being closer to Dean.

He was sprawled out across his bed after a long day. He'd already told Dean that he was not in the mood for another lesson just yet. He was still sore and tired from the lesson he'd learned last night. How to punch someone. His eyes had just fluttered closed when Dean's cell phone began to ring.

Sam opened his eyes, his face scrunching into an irritated scowl. He just wanted a nap! He reached over and clicked accept without looking at the caller id. Sam closed his eyes and hoped that it wasn't his father.

"Hello?"

"Is this Dean Winchester?" a female voice asked, he couldn't recognize it.

"Uh no, this is his brother. Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry sir, but I'm not at liberty to tell you, can I speak to your brother please?"

"Okay," Sam sighed, "I'll get him."

He pushed himself off of his bed and walked across the room to the bathroom. He pounded on the door, hoping that his brother could hear him over the noise of the shower.

"Dean!" he yelled, pounding again.

The water immediately shut off and he could hear scuffling on the other side. A few seconds later Dean opened the door, steam billowing out behind him as water dripped down his face. He used one hand to open the door, the other had the important duty of holding a towel up around his waist.

His green eyes searched Sam frantically up and down, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Sam had to stifle a laugh and only barely managed to disguise it as a cough, "Uh, phone."

The urgency leaked out of Dean's body and he sagged against the door frame. 'No threat,' Dean told himself, 'No threat, everything's fine. Sam's okay.'

"Phone?" he asked, raising a critical eyebrow. It wasn't like Sam to interrupt one of his showers for a mere phone call.

"I picked it up but the lady said that she could only talk to you," Sam explained, feeling the need to defend himself.

Dean signaled with his fingers for Sam to hand the phone over without another word.

Sam did and then remained standing where he was, hoping to hear what the lady had to say. Somehow knowing in his gut that it was something important.

"Dean Winchester," Dean said, pressing his phone against his ear.

After a glance at his little brother Dean clicked the speaker on and held the phone out between them. He held a finger up to his lips just in case Sam wasn't technically supposed to hear whatever the lady was going to say.

Sam nodded eagerly in agreement.

"Mr. Winchester I have you listed as Zachary Hubert's legal guardian, is that correct?"

"Yes," Dean stated confidently, hoping that that was what his father had put on the papers.

"I need you to come down to Heatherfield County Hospital as soon as possible."

"Is something wrong?" Dean asked.

"Zachary is beginning to show signs of waking up."

Sam's eyes widened and looked up to Dean his face brightening into a brilliant smile.

"I'm on my way."

Sam grabbed the keys and rushed out of the hotel room door. He unlocked the impala, slid into the passenger seat, shoved the key into the ignition and waited impatiently for his brother to make his way out to the car.

His knee bounced up and down as he waited.

'Zach was waking up!' he thought excitedly. He couldn't remember ever feeling this excited or anxious for anything. This was almost twice as exciting as any Christmas he'd ever had before.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean finally walked outside and climbed behind the wheel.

He pulled out of the parking lot swiftly and drove to the hospital.

Sam could barely contain himself as Dean parked the car. He could imagine walking in and finding Zach wide awake, welcoming him with his easy smile and a confident promise that he'd be up and walking in no time. That they could pick up where they left off. Perhaps he and Dean would became friends...

Than fear started to nibble at his excitement.

What if Zach wasn't awake at all?

What if…?

He shook his head, Zach _would_ get better. He was sure of it.

Sam waited for Dean and walked next to his side into the hospital and up to the ICU unit. As soon as they walked in they were approached by Doctor Ruther.

"Doc what's going on?" Dean asked, cutting to the chase.

"He woke up," the doctor replied breathlessly.

"I thought you said it might take a while for that to happen," Dean said in an almost accusatory tone.

Doctor Ruther huffed, "Everything about this situation is unique Mister Winchester, I thought I had made the fact that I could give you nothing but estimates fairly clear, but if not I apologize."

"So he's awake then?" Sam asked, butting in to the conversation, wanting to do nothing but sprint to that curtained off area and see for himself how Zachary was.

"Yes, he's awake and for the time being conscious."

"Can we see him?" Sam asked eagerly, putting on his puppy-dog eyes at full power.

The doctor studied the young man. He'd seen him practically every day ever since Zach had been admitted. There was something about the two brothers that he couldn't quite pin down. It was almost like there was a silent strength inside both of them. A drive that kept them moving. He mentally shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded, jerking his head in a clear 'follow me'.

They followed behind him.

"So…are there any…any complications?" Sam asked nervously.

"Not as far as we're aware," Doctor Ruther replied, somewhat glad that he could give at least one uplifting remark about this whole thing.

The older man held open the curtains for them and ushered the brother inside.

Sam sucked in a breath.

A pretty nurse was bent over the bed, taking Zach's temperature.

Besides for the few scratches and stitches that were visible Zach looked okay. Better than okay. He was alive! Alivealivealive-

Then Zach's light eyes fell onto Sam's face and all hell broke loose. It was like some sort of switch flicked in Zach's brain.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Zach's face paled considerably. His eyes widened as the nurse and everyone but Sam faded from his mind.

He wasn't there in the hospital bed.

Flash.

Zach was standing over Mr. Clark's body, he laughed like a maniac as Thom begged for his life, Zach didn't hesitate to slit his throat. He watched, smiling as the blood poured from Thom's body before throwing the dead man's upper half away from him in disgust.

Flash.

He wanted out. Wanted to control his body but he couldn't! He couldn't stop his body as he walked forward and grabbed the gas station's cashier and dragged him halfway across the counter. He was vaguely aware of Miranda watching from the sidelines with a smirk on her face, arms crossed in front of her chest.

"These two," Zach slapped a photo of Dean taken from a security camera a few years ago and a yearbook picture of Sam down in front of the trembling man, "Have you seen them?"

The cashier shook his head frantically, "N-never seen 'em before in my life."

"I think you have," Zach growled, reaching into his jeans for his knife. The same knife he'd used to slit Thom's throat. He could still see some blood stains standing out against the shiny metal.

"I-I u-uh," the cashier was stuttering.

'Good', he thought, 'we're getting somewhere.' Intimidation always seemed like the easiest way to go with humans. It was incredible how much they complained about their lives and yet, as soon as they felt threatened, they'd do anything to protect their own skin.

"Which way did they go?" he asked softly.

The cashier pointed a weak hand to the direction of the highway.

Zach raised his knife.

"That way! That way I swear to God!" the cashier sobbed.

Zach flinched slightly, "I wouldn't swear to Him."

He killed him with a swift jerk of his arm-

"Zachary! Zachary!" a voice was yelling.

The nurse. Kathy.

Reality started to seep back into his senses slowly.

"Get out," he whispered pain etched across his face, looking at Sam but not really seeing the youngest Winchester, "Get out."

Dean thought that he might have to drag his brother out, but Sam surprised him. Sam spun on his heel and marched out quickly, his faced unreadable. Posture tense.

Dean took off after him.

"Sam!" he called.

Sam kept marching. Out of ICU and into the hallway. Moving, moving, 'just get away.'

"Sam, please!" Dean called again miraculously Sam listened the time and stopped, sagging against the left wall of the hallway.

Dean jogged to get to him quicker and stopped in front of Sam. He closed his eyes briefly. This was definitely _not_ how he had wanted this day to go. This was supposed to be a happy-go-lucky rainbow at every corner type of day. Instead...instead he was left with a lost little brother who no doubt felt like his world was caving in.

He knew Sam had been holding onto the hope of Zach's recovery like a lifeline. He knew that that was one of the things that had kept Sam going this whole time.

"Sam, look at me," he said softly, using a finger to direct Sam's chin up so he could see the kid's face so that he could more easily judge what his brother needed at the moment.

Sam jerked his head away and turned so that his back leaned against the wall.

"He can't even look at me now," he stated, looking up at the bland ceiling, his voice was wobbly, a clear sign that he was on the verge of tears, "Zach can't even…" his throat clenched and he squeezed his eyes shut, turning his face downwards to the floor.

"Hey," Dean told him gently, "We don't know what that was about. We don't even know if you had anything to do with it-"

"We don't know?" Sam demanded, finally meeting Dean's gaze. A mirage of hurt and pain churning in his eyes, "I think it's pretty damn obvious what happened. Everything was fine and then he saw me and shit hit the fan!"

"Sam," Dean admonished, pointedly looking around the hallway towards a few technicians who were looking at them curiously.

Sam followed his gaze and nodded that he understood.

"Look," Dean tried his voice noticeably softer, "Zach was possessed for who knows how long. Of course there's going to be some complications that come with that."

"And what? I set it off? How comforting. Now every time he looks at me all he'll see is memories of a demon being inside of him." Sam matched his brother's tone.

"Sam-"

"Don't Dean," Sam interrupted his voice returning to a normal level. Sam's fear and worry making his tone sharper than he intended he tried to soften his tone as he added, "I just, I need a breather. I'll be back."

Sam walked off down the hallway towards the entrance. As much as Dean wanted to follow him he stayed put. Sam needed some alone time to sort this new predicament out.

He went back to the ICU, hoping that Doctor Ruther would have some sort of explanation available for Zach's strange reaction. Something that would clearly take the blame off of Sam's shoulders.

He plopped down in one of the ICU waiting chairs and resorted himself to waiting.

The wind nipped at Sam and he wished he had thought to wear something a little warmer. The cold, though uncomfortable, brushed away all other thoughts _but_ cold. He knew that each step he took away from the hospital would be another step that he'd have to take back, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that at the moment.

'So much for a warm, cherry welcome,' he thought bitterly.

The hospital was located in the heart of the little city, more like a small town, that he and Dean were staying in. He passed a bookshop, a music store, his eyes caught the sign of a coffee cup with steam pouring out of it.

'Ms. Mchougy's Café.'

He and Dean had passed it almost every day on their way to visit Zach, but he'd never thought to try it. His stomach rebelled at the thought of any food or drink at the moment, so he decided that he might as well go in to get warm.

He walked inside, a little bell ringing as he let the glass door close behind him.

Sam could feel the lingering effects of the cool wind slowly fade away in the café's warm atmosphere. He found a window booth open in the corner and sat down, burying his face in his arms.

"Can I get you anything sweetheart?" a kind voice asked.

Sam brought his head up to see a plump older-looking women standing near his table with a notepad ready. She had short grey hair and red rimmed glasses. Her green shirt and faded jeans were mostly covered by a purple apron that had flour stains on it. Her name tag read Ms. Mchougy.

"Uh, no thank you," Sam told her, than blushing when he realized how ridiculous he must look at the moment he tried to explain himself, "I uh, just wanted to sit somewhere and get warm."

"You okay sweetie?" she asked, concern etching her features.

Sam was tempted to spill everything to this elderly woman, somehow feeling like she actually _did_ care and would want to help. But instead he just offered a weak smile.

"Just got a lot on my plate at the moment," he mumbled.

She nodded and gave him a warm smile, "Well, just tell me if you change your mind and want something."

Sam nodded and thanked her. He watched as she walked around the store, checking up on the few other customers, calling some of them by name.

He wondered briefly if Ms. Mchougy was like what he assumed a grandmother would be like.

Zach had once talked about his grandparents. He hadn't known them very long and after Zach's parents had passed away he hadn't heard from them since.

Sam couldn't picture Ms. Mchougy leaving a young boy alone in the world to fend for himself.

He sighed and laid his head back down.

What would his next step be?

Should he stay here and hope that Zach gets better? Wait until Zach doesn't freak out every time he walks into the room?

Would he go? Leave Zach behind?

Dean's words floated back to Sam, ' _If it meant your wellbeing I would go in a heartbeat_.'

 _Would_ his leaving help Zachary's wellbeing? Or would it just hinder him?

His head jerked up at the sound of someone setting a mug on the table in front of him.

He looked up to see Ms. Mchougy smiling down at him and a warm cup of hot chocolate sitting before him.

"I-I don't have any money," he stammered.

"It's on the house sweetie, you looked like you could use a pick-me-up."

He smiled at her, gratefully and shyly and didn't bother to deny it. He hadn't drank or eaten anything yet today.

She winked and squeezed his shoulder in a tender manner before walking away.

Sam gingerly took the mug into his hands and took a careful sip. Warmth spread throughout his body. He set the cup down, deciding that he'd have to come back to this place. If not to show Dean how good it was, than to repay Ms. Mchougy for her kindness.

Dean stood as the doctor neared. Sam still hadn't returned, but he'd give his brother another five or so minutes before he called to check on him.

"How is he?" Dean asked, nodding his head towards Zach's direction.

Doctor Ruther sighed, this case seemed to have no end to its strangeness, "Sedated for now."

"Any idea what cause it?"

"It appears Zach is suffering from some form of PTSD. Seeing your brother must have triggered something."

"Do you think…" Dean hesitated, knowing that he should ask but afraid to hear the answer, "Do you think that he'll be able to get over it?"

"You mean, do I think that he and your brother will ever have the same relationship that they did before?" the doctor guessed with a raised eyebrow.

Dean nodded, not bothering to deny it.

"I've seen many forms of PTSD over the span of my career," Doctor Ruther began, "And since Zach just started showing these signs, again, nothing can be certain."

Dean nodded, "I understand," he said, prompting the doctor to continue.

"Son, I'm going to be honest with you," Doctor Ruther looked Dean in the eye, "It doesn't look good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. If you have a chance, please leave a comment or a kudo. Feedback of any sort is always helpful and very much appreciated. Thanks again!


	24. The Choice

After he had drank all of the hot chocolate that had been placed in front of him, Sam gathered up what remained of his courage and started the trek back to the hospital. The temperature felt like it had dropped some now and the wind had picked up.

He didn't get very far before his phone started ringing. Not that that really surprised him. If anything, he almost had thought Dean would've called him earlier.

He pulled his cellphone out and clicked accept before pressing it against his ear.

"Sam," he said, trying to speak over the wind.

"Hey," he could hear the relief in his older brother's voice.

"Yeah, not dead yet," Sam told him, his lips quirking upwards slightly.

"You need a ride or anything?" Dean asked, hearing the loud gust of wind on the other end.

Sam shook his head before remembering that Dean couldn't see him.

"No, I'm good. I should be back at the hospital in five minutes…maybe less."

"Okay, well be careful."

Sam huffed, unable to hide the fond smile, "I will Dean."

"See ya soon kiddo."

"See ya."

He hung up and slid the device back into his pocket.

Dean shook his head as he hung up. Sam had _sounded_ better. He was making jokes, so that must mean that he was in better spirits, right? Dean pursed his lips, he'd feel a lot better once he was able to see it for himself. Sam, even this Sam who he was trying to get reacquainted with, was still an open book.

He just had to re-learn how to read it.

He tried not to be too anxious as he waited for Sam to return and wondered if he'd ever _not_ be anxious when his brother wasn't near him.

It almost reminded him of the first time he'd been waiting for Sam after school…

_"_ _Are you sure Dean?" Sam asked, already nosy and too smart for his own good at the age of four._

_"_ _Yeah," Dean said enthusiastically, "You'll love school. You'll get to learn all kinds of new stuff."_

_That peaked Sam's interest, like Dean knew it would. He helped Sam put on the sweatshirt and smiled as the brown mop of curls popped out messy through the hole. And his brown eyes started to get that glow._

_"_ _What new stuff?"_

_Dean ruffled his hair, "Well…you get to learn how to read."_

_"_ _I know how to read, you taught me," Sam reminded him._

_Dean smiled and felt a slight blush creep into his cheeks at the way Sam was gazing at him._

_"_ _Well you'll get to read even better, and they'll have all sorts of new books."_

_"_ _Really?"_

_Dean nodded, knowing how much Sam loved bedtime stories and fairy-tales._

_"_ _So you ready to go to school?" he asked, grabbing both his backpack and Sam's._

_Sam nodded enthusiastically. Dean jerked his head and started walking towards the door. Their father was out on a hunt, but he said that he'd be back if not today than tomorrow._

_It didn't even cross Dean's mind that a parent was usually present for something as significant as their child's first day of school. John had already missed so many firsts for both he and Sam that it was truly a celebration when he was there._

_But Dean wasn't bitter about it._

_His father was a hero. Out saving innocent people's lives._

_Sam's hand slipped into his own as they walked down the sidewalk. Their father had picked a good hotel. The school was only about a block away._

_As they neared the building he felt Sam's grip on his hand tighten._

_"_ _I can walk you to your classroom if you'd like," he offered._

_Sam nodded, no longer as eager as he'd been in their room. The sight of all the kids coming in and parents coming out. People shouting greetings at each other was intimidating to the youngest Winchester._

_"_ _You'll be okay Sammy," Dean told him, as if reading his brother's thoughts._

_Sam wouldn't put that ability past him. In his eyes Dean_ _was_ _a hero._

_"_ _And if you ever need me just ask your teacher to go to the office and ask the kind ladies to get me, I'm on the floor on top of you so that'll be the quickest way, okay?"_

_Sam nodded._

_They entered the building, Dean carefully maneuvering them so that nobody accidently bumped into his brother. He may have only been nine, but he was by no means unable to defend himself and those he cared about._

_He took Sam down the little kid hallway and led him to the kindergarten room._

_"_ _Okay kiddo," Dean stopped just outside the door and squatted down, swinging Sam's backpack off of his shoulder, "You ready for this?"_

_Sam hesitated than nodded determinedly._

_"_ _Okay, you call for me if you need me, got it?"_

_Sam nodded again and before Dean knew it Sam was throwing his arms around him._

_"_ _I'll be okay De'," Sam whispered into his ear._

_"_ _I know you will shrimp," Dean told him, pulling back and ruffling Sam's hair._

_"_ _Are you Samuel?" a kind voice asked._

_The brother's looked up to see Sam's teacher in the doorway._

_Dean stood, "He goes by Sam."_

_She smiled again. 'She must do that a lot,' Dean thought, 'That'll be good for Sammy.'_

_"_ _Okay Sam, you want to come in and meet some of the other students?"_

_Sam glanced at Dean clearly not wanting to._

_"_ _We have lots of books too," she offered._

_**That** _ _got Sam's attention._

_The five year old picked up his backpack and turned back to smile at Dean._

_"_ _See ya Dean," he said._

_"_ _See ya," Dean replied, watching as Sam shyly took his teacher's hand and walked into his new classroom._

_Dean was on the edge of his seat all day. He kept waiting, jerking whenever he heard the door open thinking that it would be Sam, or Sam's teacher, or one of the office ladies. Constantly waiting for the call that his little brother needed him._

_Only, the call never came._

_The bell rang at the end of the day and Dean practically sprinted down the stairs and outside so that Sam wouldn't have to wait for him._

_The tide of children swarmed around him but he couldn't see his brother._

_"_ _Sam!" he called after a minute or two._

_Still nothing._

_'_ _What if he got sick? Or hurt? It'd be just like that little brat to convince the office ladies not to tell him just so that he wouldn't be worried,' he thought grimly._

_He marched inside and walked into the office._

_"_ _Has my brother been in here?" he asked, hooking his thumbs through his backpack straps._

_One of the ladies smiled and shook her head, "Sorry sweetie."_

_Dean pursed his lips than started walking down Sam's hallway._

_He slowed his pace as he neared, hearing voices._

_"_ _What about this one?" that was Sam's teacher._

_"_ _What's it about?" Dean felt relief flow through him, that voice was undoubtedly his brother's ._

_"_ _It's about two brothers, I think you'll like it."_

_Dean waited for them to finish, his brother sounded happy, he wasn't about to cut it short._

_"_ _What do the two brothers do?"_

_"_ _Well…" the teacher chuckled, "You'll have to read and find out."_

_"_ _Oh," was all his brother replied._

_"_ _Let me check this out for you. That boy who dropped you off this morning, is he your brother?" she asked._

_"_ _He's Dean. He's the bestest big brother ever!"_

_Dean's chest constricted and he started to backpedal slowly so that it wouldn't seem like he had been eavesdropping._

_"_ _Sammy!" he called._

_"_ _Dean!" Sam came barreling out of the room with a new book in his hands._

_Dean crouched and hugged him, Sam's last comment still ringing loud and clear in his ears._

_"_ _Whatcha got there kiddo?" He asked as he stood back up and took Sam's hand in his._

_Sam handed him the book, "Mrs. Wesson gave it to me for free! I have to bring it back once I'm finished."_

_"_ _Cool," Dean praised._

_"_ _I like school," Sam decided as they walked out of the building._

_Dean pretended that he liked it too, for Sam's sake, "Yeah. It's great."_

Dean shook his head fondly at the memory. He didn't need Sam's praises, he would do everything and more for his kid brother over again. But he had to admit, it was nice to be recognized every once and a while for his efforts.

Sam walked into the ICU a few moments later. His hair looked slightly windblown and his cheeks colored, but otherwise looking somewhat refreshed. And determined.

Sam's eyes quickly found him and he walked over.

"Any changes?" he asked as soon as he sat down.

Dean shook his head regretfully, "They had to sedate him."

Sam nodded and glanced absently about the ICU unit.

"Where'd you go?" Dean wondered, hoping a change in topic would help.

Sam shrugged, "I found this little café down the street a ways. The owner was really nice."

"That's good," Dean replied awkwardly, trying to keep the conversation going.

Sam shrugged and looked down at his feet.

"Did you mean what you said?" his little brother asked, suddenly gazing up at him through his bangs.

"Did I mean what I said when?" Dean asked.

"When you said that, if it meant my wellbeing, you'd leave in a heartbeat? Did you mean that?"

Dean nodded, "Yeah. Why? If you want me to leave-"

Sam's eyes widened, "No! No, I mean, not unless you want to."

"Then why are you asking?"

Sam shrugged, his eyes darting quickly to the curtained area Zach was in before returning to Deans.

"I guess I just have to evaluate all my options."

"Sam, whatever you're thinking right now, stop. Okay? No one's going anywhere or doing anything until we've got the facts," Dean stated.

Sam didn't seem convinced, "Did Doctor Ruther tell you anything?"

"He thinks it might be some sort of PTSD, but people with PTSD they learn to cope, Sam, they-he, can still get better. This is just a minor setback."

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, "You saw him Dean. There's no way that he'll cope if he has me there constantly reminding him of everything he's trying to forget."

Dean remained silent for a moment, "We don't know that for sure."

"We do Dean," Sam pressed, "So it might be better if we, or really, I leave Zach alone."

"So you're just going to leave him?"

Sam flinched at his condescending tone.

"Sam you know how pissed you were at dad and I for doing that same thing!"

"It doesn't have to be permanent!" Sam argued desperately, "I don't have to just dump him. But if every time he sees me all he thinks of is whatever he's had to go through because of me the least I can do is not cause him any more pain."

"Sam," Dean sighed, "None of this is your fault."

"Dean-"

"None of it," he repeated forcefully.

"Look," Sam's voice took on a defeated tone and he looked at Dean pleadingly, "I'm not asking you to be thrilled about my decision, or even to support it, but I _am_ asking that you respect it. Whatever decision I decide to make."

"Of course I'll respect it Sam," Dean assured him, he paused before adding seriously, "I just don't want you to make the same mistake I did."

Sam paused, "It's not the same."

"No?" Dean snorted, "'Cause from here it looks the exact same to me."

"Well, it's not," Sam argued, knowing that he sounded like a petulant little toddler.

"Do you remember that night?"

Sam's brow furrowed, "What night?"

"The night that dad dropped you off."

"No…not really. I mean, I remember it was a hunt for a spirit and dad told me to stay in the car, but…" Sam hesitated as the memory replayed in his mind, "But I didn't listen to him. I went inside." He shook his head, "Than it's black and I woke up in a hospital."

"Well you got hurt," Dean told Sam, "The ghost appeared behind you and threw you into a bookshelf."

Sam's eyes widened, "So that's how I got this?" he pointed to the faint scar on his neck.

Dean nodded, "Yes. Do you know why dad left you there?"

Sam shook his head.

"He was so scared about you getting hurt and so desperate to give you a better life that he left you." Dean closed his eyes briefly and shook his head, " _We_ left you."

"I had never thought about it like that," Sam admitted, "I always thought that I had done something wrong."

"And what do you think Zach's going to think if you leave now Sam? What happens when he gets better?" Dean asked earnestly, trying to be gentle and yet get his point across to his little brother.

"You mean if he gets better," Sam mumbled.

"Huh?"

" _If_ Zach gets better. _If_ he doesn't go insane. _If_ he can ever look or think about me without thinking about stuff that happened when he was possessed."

"Sam-"

Sam sighed, "Forget it."

He silenced whatever Dean was about to say with one look.

"I won't make a decision until we know something for sure," he promised.

Only he knew that that statement wasn't completely true.

Sam _had_ made his decision.

Now he just had to find the courage to follow through with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly done, one more to go. Hopefully you're enjoying this story, thank you so much for taking the time to read it. Please, if you can, leave a kudo or a comment. Thanks again!


	25. The End, or...The Beginning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have guessed from the chapter's title, this is the last and final chapter for this story. I'm thinking about writing a sequel for it, so if you'd be interested in reading that please let me know! Thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos on this story thusfar, and I hope you all enjoy!

They'd been waiting for news for days. For data. For any sign of improvement at all. Any sign that Zach was getting better, that there was still hope. Instead all they got was the opposite.

It was the little things that would set Zachary off.

Some made sense. When a nurse accidentally splashed water on him he freaked, he didn't want anything to do with salt, and any food with visible salt he freaked, anything vaguely pointy couldn't go near him, or he'd freak.

Those at least, were understandable and could be explained.

Other things Sam couldn't quite understand, although he knew that they must trigger some sort of memory from when Zach was possessed. Something he still felt guilty for.

Any bright color of red? He freaked. Someone moving an arm or leg for him? He freaked.

The list went on and on and after a couple days of no improvement Doctor Ruther had no choice but to place Zachary in the psychic ward, for Zach's own safety and the safety of the staff. In short the patient was unstable. Maybe some time alone to reorient himself without being constantly surrounded by people was what he needed.

"I'm sorry," he told the Winchester brothers the next day, gripping his clipboard as he relayed the information. "I know this isn't the news you'd like to hear."

"Can we still see him?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Doctor Ruther's slight wince was answer enough, "Given his current condition and the way he reacts around the two of you…I must advise against it."

Sam couldn't hide his disappoint, but nodded in understanding.

"Do you think there's still a chance for full recovery?" Dean asked placing a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam looked up hopefully at the doctor.

Doctor Ruther pursed his lips, "Physically? Yes, I have no doubt that physically Zach will make a full recovery in no time. But psychologically? There's no way to tell for certain. Some patients do make a full recovery it just takes time. Others…others don't."

Sam tried to swallow past the lump in his throat. It wasn't shocking news. He'd accepted the facts already, but hearing it being said by someone like Doctor Ruther it was like hearing it anew all over again.

"I'll have the front desk call you guys if there's any further development," Doctor Ruther offered.

Dean nodded, "We'd appreciate that."

Dean shook hands with the older gentlemen, "Thank you for all of your hard work."

"I just wish I could do more," Doctor Ruther replied, "Take care of yourselves," he added, with a pointed look towards the youngest Winchester who was clearly lost in his own world at the moment.

Dean chuckled, following his gaze and tossing a fond arm around his brother's shoulders.

"We will doctor," he promised.

With another nod Doctor Ruther left them, going off to check on the other ICU patients.

The two brothers walked out of the hospital numbly. Not a word was spoken as they moved down the tiled hallways and out the doors.

Sam climbed into the impala and shut the door. The quiet mantra playing over and over in his mind, 'It doesn't change anything,it doesn't change anything, it doesn't change anything, but it _did_!' It was completely different thinking you know something and then being told you're right by a professional.

Beforehand he could hold onto the hope that he was completely and utterly wrong. The hope that Zachary _would_ get better. That maybe he wouldn't have to make a decision after all. But now? Now that hope was gone and he was left with nothing but the cold reality. No matter how hard you try, you can never prepare yourself fully for that kind of shock.

"You wanna stop by that café you were telling me about?" Dean offered as he got behind the wheel. Trying desperately to remain optimistic about everything to lift his brother's spirits.

Sam shook his head and glanced out the window.

"I'm not really in the mood for hot chocolate," he mumbled.

Dean's heart ached, physically ached, for his little brother at the hopelessness his posture practically screamed.

"Look Sam, nothing's for certain, right? The doc said there was still hope," he said, still trying to keep an optimistic view.

Sam shrugged noncommittally, "Yeah."

Dean pursed his lips than thought of another distraction that might work to take Sam's mind off of the depressing news, "You wanna train tonight?"

"Can we spar?" Sam asked, still wanting to try that.

Dean nodded not entirely happy with the idea, but willing to do whatever Sam wanted, "Sure."

Sam gave him a brief smile before returning his gaze to the passing scenery.

...

The brothers positioned themselves in front of each other. Sam's arms were up in a natural defensive stance. Dean was poised liked the trained fighter he was. Like the trained fighter Sam would have been had he grown up with his brother.

"Ready?" Dean asked, still not overly thrilled at this idea of sparring.

Sam nodded, determination filling his hazel eyes.

Dean waited, letting his brother have the first strike. Sam tensed his muscles and punched only to find himself on the floor a second later. Gasping as his back landed on the carpet and wondering how he'd ended up there.

Dean gave him a helping hand up.

"Okay, so that was a good punch, but predictable and could use a little aim," Dean instructed, critiquing but being kind about it. Sam could only imagine what being trained by their father would have been like.

Dean moved so that he could show Sam where his little brother had gone wrong. Going step by step, and teaching how it could be improved.

Sam nodded and practiced his punch against the air.

"How did you pin me like that?" he asked Dean after a moment's thought.

Dean smirked, "We'll get to that later."

Sam rolled his eyes at the response but got back into his starting position. Ready to try again.

Rock music blared from Dean's discarded jacket on the bed, interrupting their sparring session before either could make the first move. Dean sighed, his arm dropping to his sides as he walked over and picked it up.

"Dad?"

He listened intently to the other line.

"Okay, yeah, yeah I understand." His brother didn't look pleased as their father told him something, "We'll see. No, we're good. Yes, I do understand but-"

Sam's stomach lurched at the thought that they'd finally found a lead on the demon. Making a decision was one thing. Following through with it was another matter entirely.

By the time Dean had hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed, Sam could barely contain his anxiety.

"What was that about?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"They found a lead on the demon," Dean replied, sitting down on the edge of his bed. Their sparring lesson put on hold and momentarily forgotten.

"And?" Sam prompted when his brother made no sign of continuing.

"Dad would like me to meet him up at Bobby's in two days," Dean said.

"Will you?"

His older brother ran a hand through his short hair.

"I don't know," he admitted, "I won't have to leave until tomorrow...I guess we'll both have to decide by then."

Sam nodded and looked down at the floor. Tomorrow. It seemed so far away and at the same time felt way too close for comfort.

"I think I'm going to take a walk to clear my head," Dean announced, "You wanna come with?"

Sam shook his head, "Nah, you go. I think I'll turn in early tonight."

Dean nodded and got up, slipping his arms through his jacket. He walked to the door and paused to look at his younger brother. Trying to gauge Sam's reaction to the news.

"Sam," he said. He waited for his younger brother to meet his gaze, "You know I'm _not_ going to leave you, right?"

A brief smile lit his brother's face, "I know Dean."

Dean nodded to himself, pleased with the response and walked out of the motel room.

The next day Sam asked to be taken to the hospital early. Dean didn't deny his request, nor did he remind him that their clock was slowly ticking away. The feeling of tension was hanging over them like a cloud.

Sam walked into the psychic ward of the hospital, a single piece of paper in his hand. Dean was waiting in the parking lot. This was something the youngest Winchester had to do on his own.

His hand shook and he tried to quell it by stuffing his hand in his pocket.

He walked to the desk and handed the letter over.

"This is for Zachary, he's a new patient," Sam stated, "Can you…can you make sure he gets it for me?"

The nurse smiled and took the letter, "I'll deliver it myself," she promised, "Are you sure you don't want to give it to him?"

Sam shook his head, "I'm sure."

He sped out of there before he could change his mind. Hurrying down the steps. Forcing down the guilt as best he could.

Dean was leaning casually against the frame of the impala, he straightened his posture as he watched Sam approach.

"That was fast," he observed, "Everything okay?"

"Fine," Sam replied.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Dean," Sam said, a hint of irritation in his tone.

"Sorry for asking," Dean muttered stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"What time do you have to leave?" Sam asked, effectively changing the topic.

"Well…if I go, it'd probably have to be in like an hour or so."

"Then we better get packing," Sam stated determinedly.

Dean's brow furrowed, "We? Sam, I don't think you realize what going after this thing would entail."

"Then enlighten me," Sam said, a look of defiance lighting his gaze. A sure sign that an argument was on its way.

"Sam," Dean shifted his weight impatiently, "If you go after this thing then there's no going back, okay? It'll mean living on the road. Never settling down. No college. No future. It'll mean risking your neck every week for people who won't even give you a second glance. Are you really sure that you want that as your life?"

Sam acted as if he couldn't care less about the price of going. As he saw it this was his only option left. The only road he had now to follow. In his mind it wasn't a bad road either. For one thing, he wouldn't be alone. He'd have his brother to watch out for him every step of the way.

Would there be stressful times? Of course. Would he regret it later? Probably. But he knew this was the right course of action, now he just had to convince Dean of that.

Sam tried to explain his side of things, "Dean, there's nothing I can go back to. Everything I spent eight years trying to build is gone. If there's even a slim chance at getting revenge for the thing who stole all that from me, hell yeah I want in."

When Dean didn't reply Sam decided a different approach was necessary.

"You said you'd support whatever decision I made, was that true?"

"Of course."

"Well, this is my decision," Sam opened the passenger door and turned when Dean hadn't moved, "Come on, we've got work to do."

THE END

(or is it?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if you'd like to see a sequel for this, please let me know. Otherwise, thank you so much for taking the time to read my story and I hope you enjoyed it!


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